


Dean Winchester and the Hunter's Order

by thetreeswhisper



Series: Dean Winchester Goes to Hogwarts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, is there a tag for using every background character in the show ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreeswhisper/pseuds/thetreeswhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much is changing, and fifth year at Hogwarts brings more than O.W.L. exams.  Dean and his friends, inspired by the generation preceding them, learn to fight their way through the world's growing darkness in addition to dealing with shifting feelings that come with teenage hormones.  Meanwhile a greater plan is afoot, outside any of their knowledge...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began to worry that the wait for this third part in the series was going to be just as long as the wait for Order of the Phoenix (there are myriads of parallels between the two stories but I'd rather leave out that particular one). So, to spur me onward to the finish and to announce that yes, I'm still here, I'm posting this excerpt from near the beginning of book 3. There is much, MUCH more to come!
> 
> 3/06 EDIT: Now for the actual full chapter 1. The excerpt was out of this chapter, but it wasn't the very beginning, so don't skip scene 1. :)

The roof creaked, battered by the wind, but the abandoned warehouse held steady as it always had through the years so far.  By abandoned, that is to say that the original owners had given it no attention since they ceased to use it at least fifty years ago, but it was not, in fact, empty.

At least, to anyone who spoke the right words and took the right entrance it was occupied, but all others would find a large, unlit, dusty building, and perhaps a lonely hooting owl in the rafters.

To the young woman coming up from the basement of the building now, the air was shimmering around a hovering chandelier, and the floor was furnished by a long, narrow table, at the end of which sat her father, his yellow eyes glistening.  Prompted by her arrival, he exclaimed, "Ah, Meg!  How's our guest coming along?"

She sat in one of the chairs halfway down from the man and leaned forward on her elbows.  "Very nicely, sir.  He's giving us everything."

"Such as?"

"The Department of Security has a file on John Winchester," she answered proudly.  "All they need is one good piece of solid evidence, then he's done for."

"Hmm."  He paused.  "I suspected as much.  It should be easy to get _him_ out of the way.  Anything else?"

Her grin faltered.  "Sure.  Loads.  Just give me five more minutes with him and we'll have everything we need--"

"Tsk, tsk.  What we _need_ is not a Bureau undersecretary - please, feel free to dispose of him - but we certainly could use a trap."

"A trap for Winchester?  _John_ Winchester?"

"Is that a stroke of fear I hear in your voice, daughter?"

"No, sir.  Just... clarifying."

"You know you can't lie to me, dearie."

Her gaze wandered up to the rafters where there was, indeed, a lonely owl.  Meg crossed her arms and sighed, "Yes, sir."

The yellow eyes narrowed, but he moved on, "A trap for Winchester is a trap for them all.  They'll do the work for us, and all we have to do is wait.  I've waited for millenia, so a few months... ought to be a blink."

"Hah," came a woman's high-pitched voice from a dark corner of the room.

Meg slumped low in her chair, twiddling her wand between her fingers.

"Sister!" the Yellow-Eyed Demon called.  "Joining us?"

A woman with blonde curls emerged from the shadows, her lipstick standing out against her pale skin.  "Not at all."

"Please," he gestured to a chair opposite Meg, which slid backward several inches.  "I insist."

With a great look of sisterly disdain, she obeyed, though she kept her posture as tall as she did standing, sneering at Meg as she did so.

"Lilith," the slouching woman addressed.

"Meg."

"So, perhaps _you_ feel differently."  The head of the table ignored their murderous looks.  "What's your rush?"

"Oh, I'm in no rush.  I must admit, though, that the months do drag on with nothing to... entertain us."

"Ah, you are bored by our 'low profile.'  I see."

"Aren't you?"

A twitch of his mouth suggested a smirk, then he rose slowly out of his chair and pressed his hands against the table.  "Patience, sister.  That is what I have.  Besides, I have another matter to tend to."

"The boy?"  She lifted her eyebrows.

He grinned.  "The boy."

At this, Meg perked up once more.  "May I--"

"No, you may not.  It's still too early."

"But, sir, you wanted--"

"I _wanted_ our timing to be absolutely perfect.  And it will be, won't it, Meg?"

She gulped at the threat and held her tongue, nodding to show her assent instead.

"Apologies, _sir_ , but the boy is barely coming along," interrupted Lilith.  "My little spy is quite a confidant of his, and he's been writing to her about 'how much he misses Hoggy-Hogwarts.'  If I may be so bold, I don't think we're doing quite enough to help poor Sammy."

The man straightened up, dragging his fingers off the edge of the table and then placing them behind his back, fidgeting.

"He misses school, does he?  Not having enough fun with his brother at old Bobby Singer's house?" the yellow-eyed warlock thought aloud, then smiled.  "Lilith, I think you're right.  We've had him at a low simmer for twelve years, it's time we cranked up the heat.  He might be well-protected where he is, but... let's give him something to think about."

"Good choice, sir."  Lilith cracked a haughty grin at Meg.

"All else continues according to plan - that means no untimely deaths, dear daughter - and in just a few months, the boy will be exactly where I want him."

"I mean, why wait when we could--"

"Meg," he snapped and raised his hand to stop her, "you know exactly why we _have_ to wait.  Besides, it'll give the boy some time to stew in his own juices."

The young woman chewed on her tongue and frowned at a chip in the table, losing the will to argue.  With one last glare at Lilith, she stood and asked, "Father, may I be excused?  I'll dispose of the undersecretary as you asked."

"Yes, _please_ do."

When Meg had marched back down to the dungeon, Lilith stood and brushed off her perfectly clean, white dress.  "I'll leave you to your _musings_ , brother.  Devil knows I hate being alone in a room with you."

Rather than walking, she turned on her heel and disappeared from the spot instantly.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon returned to his seat and sighed, "At last, just you and me, Beaky."

A soft hoot came down from above.

"And Sam... oh, Sam, you're gonna love _this_."

He leaned back in his throne and sent his mind far, far away, following that bright silver thread that linked him to Sam, whose potential power surged back over the link and made it pulse like a blood vessel.  And the Demon King was all _about_ blood.

~~~

Dean had no intention of wasting the summer, no sir.  His goal was to sleep half of every day on average, making up for all the rest he didn't get between Easter break and finals.  That goal didn't pan out so well when he was suddenly assigned a dozen new chores, half of which involved waking up early in the morning to feed and water the animals.

He accepted this with a sigh, since after all, Bobby was letting him and Sam stay indefinitely.  The least they could do was contribute.

In fact, he didn't begrudge the work for long at all, since half the time he worked alongside Sam or Cas or both, and they started to make up games to pass the time.  Dean would stand up in the hay loft and drop bales down, then Cas would pick them up and distribute to the stalls, then when he was done Dean gathered up handfuls of loose hay and dumped them on Cas' head.  This amused Dean a bit more than it amused Cas.

De-gnoming the garden was by far the most fun of all their tasks.  They took beaten-up metal rings from the shed and laid them out in the field as goals, and whoever landed the most gnomes in the farthest one got out of mucking the Hippogriff stalls.  Dean had an advantage after being chaser on the Quidditch team for a year, so it didn't take long for the prize to go from sitting back and teasing the other two to getting dung thrown at him and having to clean up the mess.

Buckbeak was a year old now, and still unable to fly.  Cas never gave up trying to teach him, getting up on his broom and hovering, dangling a ferret just high enough that Buckbeak had to jump and flap his wings to reach it.  Dean watched from the pasture fence, giving Cas unhelpful pointers and cheering both of them on.

Sometime in early July, Dean took one look at the old oak next to the house and knew exactly what it was missing.

"We need to build a treehouse," he suggested as they sat out on the fence, eating sandwiches.

Cas chewed thoughtfully.  "A treehouse?"

"Yeah, in that tree on the side of the house.  And we could build a bridge from it to your window!"

"What would be its purpose?"

Dean rolled his eyes and explained, "Every kid has to have a treehouse, that's the rule."

"I've never heard of that rule before, Dean."

"Well, you've never been a kid before.  All I'm sayin' is we need some planks and some nails and we've got ourselves a hideout.  Oh, and we could make it so you have to fly a broom to get up, and then there's a secret code to get in--"

"This sounds very complicated," Cas tried to reason.

"You'll see, just wait.  We'll build it and you'll go crazy about it."

Cas' doubts didn't fade when Dean started dragging big pieces of scrap wood out of the shed and laying them out underneath the tree, studying the branches to see which planks should go where.  Sam sighed, familiar with Dean's obsessiveness, and quickly got out some parchment to draw scaled diagrams; if Dean was set on doing it, Sam would at least make sure it was done right.

Bobby soon discovered their project, wondering what all the noise was when Dean's improvised pulley system failed.  Soon after, Bobby was neck-deep in it, too, helping out with the heavy lifting while Sam gave directions and Cas and Dean flew up and nailed the boards down.  It was several days of hard work, but when it was done, it was even better than Dean could have hoped.  They put a roof up, had blankets and cushions covering the floor, half of which Cas used to make himself a nest, and even implemented a landing platform where they could set their brooms.

Cas looked quite at home up there, curled up on the floor while Dean leaned against the branch that came up through the middle, crossing his arms.

"I told you you'd like it."

"Mmm," he mumbled, nuzzling a cushion with his face.

"You're like some kinda bird, you know.  You fly, you nest in trees, maybe I should call you feather-boy."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, feather-boy it is.  I'd call you bird-brain, but you're too damn smart."

"Alright."

"You listening, Cas?  'Cause I could just leave you alone here with the squirrels.  Not like the treehouse was my idea or anything, you could just keep it to yourself."

"Alright."

"'Alright,' sure.  'Alright,' time to get tickled."

Cas jumped up out of his pile of blankets, hair standing up in all directions, eyes wide.  He had his hands held out protectively in front of him and looked like a crazed wild man, shouting, "No!  I'm awake!  I'm listening!"

Dean hadn't even moved a finger.  He chuckled, "That was too easy."

"You are pure evil, Dean.  Pure.  Evil."

~~~

It just went to show, sometimes Dean's ideas were brilliant.

Cas _loved_ the treehouse, partly because he liked the feeling of someplace so secluded, but especially because he liked feeling secluded with Dean.  No, he decided he'd never tell Dean about the fact that he liked his eyes and his smile, but there was no harm in enjoying Dean's eyes and smile all to himself, at least for a little while.

Sam came up occasionally, but he got tired of having to carry his books up and down so he still spent most of his time in Bobby's library.  This meant it was just Cas and Dean, looking out through all the leaves and listening to each other breathe.

Plenty of times Cas asked himself,  _How is this not romantic?  Can't Dean tell?_ Maybe he could or maybe he couldn't, but either way, Cas let himself keep dreaming, knowing that this would never change.  It was a good thing that he and Dean would always be friends: it was reliable, sustainable, pleasant even.  Desires were unruly, feelings could change, but friendship was constant - and Cas would rather have constancy than anything else.

~~~

"One of these days, I'm gonna build myself a car."

"A muggle vehicle?"

"Yeah.  Like the one my dad has, man, that is a c _lassic_.  Sixty-seven Chevy Impala, purrs like a dream come true.  She's a beauty."

"'She'?" Cas frowned.

"Don't judge me, I  _know_  you talk to your broomstick.  A car is pretty much the same thing."

"Why would you need a car?"

"To drive it!  Okay, so floo powder is faster, but I wouldn't call that fun.  You haven't lived until you've been on a real roadtrip."

"What is that?"

"A roadtrip?  You've never...?  It's like... when you and some friends hop in the car and drive for a couple of days, just to see stuff and go places.  Or if you're my dad, you drive until you're almost blind and then stop for the night in the cheapest motel that won't notice or care that the protective charms you put up around the room blow out the TV."

Cas was still frowning, but now he seemed quite concentrated on something that was on Dean's face, and didn't reply.

Dean wiped at the corners of his lips and asked, "What, is there something... Cas?"

"Hmm?"  His eyes darted up to Dean's and he suddenly snapped out of his trance.  "Oh, nothing there.  You're fine."

"Looked like you were staring," Dean pointed out.  He would've found it weird, if it were anyone but Cas.

"Perhaps my eyes were a bit unfocused--"

"Looked pretty focused to me."  Dean grinned as a thought came to him.  "So you  _do_ think I have perfect lips."

"What?!  I said no such thing!"

"But you were staring!  I can't help it if I have striking features.  Wait, am I attractive to gay guys?"

Cas was taken aback, opening and closing his mouth a few times before stammering, "Wha--I-I've told you, it's  _subjective_ , Dean.  An-and I don't speak for every gay guy, it's not like I could tell you--and  _why do you want to know?"_

He shrugged.  "It's, ah... research.  Art class, self-portrait.  Need to know how attractive to depict myself."

"There is no class in art, Dean."

"Oh crap, that was the only one that I did all the homework for!"

"In stick-figures?"

"Shut up.  Anyway, you're still avoiding the question."

"If you must know, then yes, I suppose you are somewhat pretty."

"Pretty?!"

"Quite.  You have very dainty eyebrows."

"Oh, you are gonna  _pay_  for this."

~~~

And once or twice, instead of floating the evenings away up in the treehouse, they lay on the grassy hill and watched the sun set over the trees.

"How do sunsets work, anyway?  Like, how come the light gets to be all different colors at sunset?"

"Sam explained it to me once.  It's how the light from the sun at that angle has to travel a longer distance through the atmosphere, so it lowers the frequency of the waves and we get colors like red and orange that are lower on the spectrum.  Sam didn't say what kind of waves or which spectrum he was talking about, but I trust he knows more about it."

"Hmm.  That... sounds like it could be really interesting if I knew what you just said."

Cas chuckled and admitted, "I'm sure Sam explained it much better.  I'm not much help when it comes to muggle understanding of science."

"Yeah," Dean sighed, "Sam's such a nerd."

"You mean that fondly, don't you?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged.  "I used to believe you considered 'nerd' an insult.  Perhaps it still is, but... you don't say it as such."

Dean thought about it for a second.  "I'm surrounded by too many nerds like you, that's why.  Plus, you still manage to be the best seeker in the school, and Sam's got girls crawling all over him, so I don't see where the being a nerd thing makes you not cool."

"Shall I tell everyone that you said that?"

They exchanged a grin.

"Not a word."

~~~

Dean could have let the whole summer drift by like this, but one day in late July, Bobby had a visitor.

First they knocked politely on the door, at which Bobby stood and stared as though it’d made the noise on its own.  Then the knock came again.  Bobby answered it, three boys lining up on the stairs to get a decent look.

“Hey, Bobby.”

The boys craned their necks because that sounded a whole lot like--

“Ellen.  What’s up?”

“Gotta talk to you about somethin’.  Can I come in?”  They heard a foot tap on the doorstep.

But Bobby stopped her.  “You know the drill.”

Dean exchanged glances with the other two, and they were asking the same thing.  _What’s ‘the drill’?_

Professor Harvelle did step inside, but then Bobby splashed her arm with something, and nothing happened.  Bobby poured some on his own hand too, then they both nodded and proceeded to get their wands out, passing some last test by writing words none of the boys could see.

“Was that a password?” Dean whispered.

Sam only hissed back, “Shh!”

“Hey, kids.  How’s your summer homework going?” the woman asked, now entering the house.

Sam and Cas smiled and said, “Good, great,”  but Dean only widened his eyes and flapped his jaw because _Ellen Harvelle had just addressed him outside of class_.  It was never a good thing when that happened.  Hell, it meant trouble if she addressed him inside class as well.

“I’m countin’ on you boys.”  She smiled and then left into the kitchen with Bobby.

Right before closing the doors, Bobby poked out his head and added, “Just give us a minute.”

Now was the time for some heavy-duty snooping, Dean felt.  Also, was it just him or did they seem to have a lot of sexual tension?  He voiced these thoughts.

“No way,” Sam refused.  Dean could tell he meant both the snooping and the tension.

Cas stared at the doors, whispering, “My father and...”  He shook his head frantically and agreed with Sam, “I believe it’s best to leave ourselves out of their discussion.”

“But what’s this mean, guys?  If it’s Hogwarts stuff, it could be our business too!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Dean.”

“Anyway,” Sam added, “the way she had to pass that test?  This is secret stuff.”

“All the more reason to--“

“ _Dean._ ”

It wasn’t Sam’s stern voice that got him, it was the look that said _‘you know it’s wrong.’_   Dean sighed, “Okay, fine.  Party poopers.”

He slid the rest of the way down the banister and went to the living room, plopping on the couch and straining his ears to catch any conversation coming from next door, but no luck.  They were being awfully quiet.

“This is weird.  Do other professors visit Bobby sometimes?” Dean asked Cas, who followed him.

Cas shrugged.  “Very occasionally.  Usually they visit to pick up potion supplies, and don’t stay very long.”

“So this is definitely weird.  Something is up.”

“I... suppose.”

The doors to the kitchen slid open and Bobby called out to all of them, “Alright, come on in!”

Dean didn’t hesitate to get up and go inside, though he did hesitate to pick a seat.  He wanted to be as far away from Professor Harvelle as possible, without looking like he was trying.  He failed on both accounts.

She raised an eyebrow at him _just_ like Jo, while Sam came down the stairs and Cas sat down next to him.

Bobby scratched under his hat.  “You wanna tell ‘em?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You boys ever heard of the Hunter's Order?”

They shook their heads.

“It’s been around for a while, but it wouldn't be a _secret_ order if we didn't keep our traps shut.  All you need to know is we fight against the Demons, and they’ve been quiet long enough that we’re worried.  It’s time to get ourselves ready for whatever they’re planning.”

So much for joking about sexual tension.  This _was_ serious business.

“We’re gathering our forces here.  Obviously, I had to get Bobby’s permission before we barged in and set up shop - that didn’t work too well the first time.”  She slipped an amused look at Bobby.

“Damn straight it didn’t,” he tacked on.

Dean didn’t want to show his excitement, but his heart was racing at the idea of all those witches and wizards coming here to plan attacks and whatever else they did.  He’d be able to see it in the works!  But there was one thing he had to get out of the way, asking, “Is that why all you adults know each other?”

Bobby chuckled, “Yeah, one way or another.  Most of us went to school together, though we’ve got a lot of people from outside Hogwarts, too.  Big country y’know.”

“What I need you boys to know,” Ellen cut back in, “is that there’s gonna be a lot goin’ on.  You gotta keep your noses clean, follow all the rules.  We’ll tell you what those rules are when we make ‘em.”

“Ugh,” Dean resigned, “Okay.  Rules, clean noses, got it.”

Ellen gave him that eyebrow again and he straightened up immediately.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“That’s more like it, Dean,” she said and patted him on the back, getting up to go.  Then she looked at Cas and Sam and finished, “I’m sure you’ll still have to keep him out of trouble.  Make sure you do.”

~~~

It was injustice, that’s what it was.  As soon as interesting stuff started happening, every door was slamming in his face.  More and more people started filling up the house along with all their secrets, so naturally there was no room left for him.

His only place of refuge was the treehouse, which he knew was only boring now because he was trapped in it.  But then Ellen came back with Jo, and Ron’s parents let him come, and Tessa’s dad was part of the Order too, so all of a sudden they had a full-fledged party!  All five of them were together for the rest of the summer, they had a new Base, and they had _plans_.

Well... they did at first.

They tried baking but got kicked out of the kitchen for some meeting.  They tried Quidditch but got told off for risking getting seen.  They even tried having a nice, quiet study session in the living room and got booted for being ‘in the way.’  But when they stayed outside, out of everyone’s way as much as possible, they got told off for being _too_ far away, where all the adults couldn't keep an eye on them.  The treehouse was the only place they could stay at all, so it soon was more like a fort - cozy enough to sleep in, even when it rained, and sheltered from prying eyes by leaves and blanket-curtains.  They had a password and everything, and Dean tortured Sam by not giving it to him for the first day and a half.  Little did he know that Cas told Sam anyway, but Sam wanted to see Dean feel bad about it.

All the same, it had been a couple weeks and they still weren't allowed to know anything about this secret society.  People they'd never seen before were walking in and out of the house, and not one of them spoke to ' _the kids_ '.

"We're fifteen, not freakin' babies," Dean complained.

"And how are we supposed to help?"  Jo flicked a spider that was hanging down from a branch above her head.  "It's not like we're allowed to do magic."

"Which is a stupid law, by the way."

"No, it isn't, Dean," Cas reasoned.

Tessa joined in and spoke earnestly, "He's right.  We still have so much to learn, and we could get ourselves seriously hurt without the supervision and, frankly, the hospital wing at Hogwarts."

"Oh yeah, because all of us go around waving our wands like idiots and setting things off anytime we're allowed to do magic."

"Um..."  Tessa, Ron, Jo, and Cas all exchanged glances.

Jo scratched her head.  "Isn't that kind of what we do, though?  Whenever we get the chance, all we do is mess around.  Kids go to the hospital wing for all kinds of crazy things."

"Did you hear about that time that first year girl - uh, Becky -  tried to give someone a love potion but it was actually just... some plant that makes you hysterical?" Tessa gave an example, raising her eyebrows.

Cas nodded.  "Alihotsy, I believe."

"Yeah, that.  She _and_ the guy she fed it to had to go see Madam McClellan."

"Guys, that was me," Sam quietly spoke from the corner, where he was reading.

The five older kids turned their heads, surprised.

Dean's face twisted with a mixture of shock and anger.  "Becky poisoned you?!"

"You wanna watch out for Becky, that chick is dangerous," Ron confided.

"Yeah, I got that already," Sam snapped.  "Why are you all so surprised?  Did you forget?  Dean, you thought it was funny and said that with my luck with the ladies, I'd have four wives by the time I'm sixteen.  You didn't seem to think she'd done that much damage at the time."

Dean started to remember.  "That's right, I... so she _didn't_ do that much damage, did she?"

"Nobody realized that I even needed to go to the hospital wing until I had a hallucination in class and almost suffocated from laughter.  There was an entire day before that when I thought I was going crazy."

All of them were a bit speechless now, looking at Sam with new sympathy.  All except for Dean, that is.

"Heh, you... well at least you were laughing, right?"

Sam sighed with exasperation and closed his book.  "Yeah, at least I was laughing."

~~~

With that, Sam got up and climbed down from the treehouse, heading to his room - which, right now, was actually Dean's room.  The boys got to share the messy room, the girls got Cas' cluttered-but-not-growing-organisms room, while Sam's neat, undecorated room was now a guest bedroom.  Some man named Travis was sleeping in there now, having been out all night, so Sam couldn't even sneak in there for some peace and quiet that didn't smell like sweaty quidditch robes and owl droppings.

He tried to sit and write, using a textbook as a flat surface, but it was too uncomfortable on the floor and he couldn't stand the odor much longer.  He picked up his parchment, quill, and ink, and headed for the attic.

It was a dusty place, filled almost completely with boxes of who knew what.  Sam had only ever seen Bobby bring one box down, and it had contained a small selection of Christmas decorations, half of which were broken.  Sam went to the vent and opened it up to the outside air, then laid down on his stomach on the dry wooden floor.

_Dear Jessica,_

He paused while re-dipping his quill, thinking of what he could possibly say.

_How is your summer?  I hope your dog is doing better, and your parents are treating you well.  They seemed really nice when I met them on the train platform._

_My vacation could be going better, I guess.  The house is more full than you could imagine, I'm actually writing this in the attic right now because every other room is occupied._

In some cases, occupied by a stench.  That counted, right?

_My brother is being a jerk, as usual.  It's nothing new, so I won't bother you with the details.  It's just so weird how his friends aren't always that bad, but he's always worse to me when he's with them.  He just needs to get over himself._

_Anyway, it figures that with so many people here, it's lonlier than ever.  I miss school and classes and--_

He wanted to write "I miss you," but that sounded so silly when he thought about actually writing it down.  Of course it was true, that was inherent in the fact that he was writing her a letter.  Anyway, he didn't want to sound _that_ pathetically lonely.

\-- _everything.  I'll ask Bobby if you can visit, at this point what's one more person in the house?  It's basically a hotel and restaurant right now.  If that doesn't work, I'll see you on September 1 st._

He smiled, and felt a weight lift off his chest as he looked forward to that day when he could go back to Hogwarts.  It wasn't all that far away, and picturing that platform, another train ride with Jessica, another opening feast... well, it made him sigh contentedly for the first time in a while.

_Keep those Ravenclaws sharp!  And... don't quote stupid puns from encouragement notes on the common room bulletin board._

_Write back soon,_

_Sam_

He gave it a read-through, was fairly satisfied, then folded it up and climbed back downstairs to seal it and give it to Hedwig.  Cas did say Sam could use her as much as he liked, and with all the people that Cas might write to _living_ here for the time being, she wasn't getting much to do.

Off she flew and Sam went to lie down and read some more.  If he opened the window and positioned his sleeping bag right in the breeze's path, it didn't smell quite so bad.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but suddenly he was jerked into a sitting position, sweating, cold, head splitting, and with the distinct image of a shadowy road crossed by train tracks echoing in his mind.

"Sam!"

He yanked his eyes open, seeing Dean clutching him by the shoulders and staring desperately into his face, and Sam instinctively shoved his brother away.

Dean only held on tighter and lowered his voice, "Sammy, shh, it's okay, it's me..."

"I'm fine," Sam insisted, finding his voice surprisingly croaky and sore.  Damn, that must have been what brought everyone in here.  Bobby and all of Dean's friends were surrounding him, too.

Finally, those hands loosened and Dean sighed.  "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Dean's eyes searched Sam's face, then at last he let go completely.

"It was just a dream," Sam reassured, as much to himself as to his brother.

"Okay," Dean nodded, then rubbed his hand in Sam's hair.  "Okay, Sammy.  You just... shake it off, we'll be making dinner downstairs."

All the others but Bobby and Dean exchanged glances then turned to leave him alone.  "That's fine," Sam muttered, turning and lying back down to face the window again.

"Holler if you need anything," Dean said, then caught himself, "Though not like... y'know, try not to give me another heart attack."

"Or me," Bobby added.

"I'll do my best."

He could sense the two of them sharing a meaningful look behind him, then after a pause Sam heard their feet shuffle back to the door.

Great, now everyone was worried about one stupid nightmare.  They didn't care when a classmate poisoned him, but they cared if he slept a little poorly?

He could barely even remember what he'd been dreaming about, anyway.  Vaguely, he thought there'd been a fire, and then it transformed into a dark gravel path which had made Sam desperate to see the end.  He couldn't tell why it was important in the slightest.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Hushed voices hissed through the crack in the door and a chair could be heard scraping against the wooden floor.  This was clearly no ordinary meeting, and the five teenagers (plus one almost-teenager) were crowded around the sliding door between the kitchen and the study.

"I can't understand a thing they're saying," Jo whined as quietly as she could.

Dean got down onto his belly and pressed his ear against the bottom gap, but after a moment of still only hearing vague hissing noises he stood back up and shook his head.  "It's no good, they must've put a charm on it."

"How do we get past it?" Ron pressed.

Dean shrugged, running his eyes around all the edges of the door but finding nothing useful.  "Without magic?"

Cas stepped back.  "I don't think... we... should..."

Jo rolled her eyes.  "It's up to you if you wooses wanna stay back, but personally I'd like to know what's so important they have to hide it from us."

"But..." Tessa exchanged a glance with Cas, agreeing, "doesn't that mean they're hiding it from us for a reason?"

"They just don't trust us," Ron argued.  "Like we'd spill all their secrets if we were let in on any of it."

"Either that or they don't think we can handle the truth," Dean muttered low.  "But we're gonna be thrown into the real world sooner or later, and at this rate we'll never be prepared."

Cas clenched his jaw and said, "Now I have to agree with Dean.  They can't expect to protect us forever."

Tessa looked at him, then at Dean, and bit her lip.  "I guess I am tired of all these doors being shut in our faces."

"So, that's a unanimous agreement?" Jo concluded.

"You forgot about me," Sam spoke from the couch.

Dean's mouth opened and closed once, then he finally wrapped it around some choice words, "Okay, no, you're definitely too young.  Us, we'll be done with school in three more years, but you?  You've got _six_ , kiddo.  That's plenty of ti--"

"Time for the Demons to get to me while I'm still clueless?"  Sam stood up and walked right up to his brother, gradually raising his voice.  "Dean, I'm tired of doors being slammed in my face, too.  And half the time, _you're_ the one doing the slamming.  Don't be such a freakin' hypocrite."

"It's for your own safety, Sammy--"

"Don't!  Don't call me Sammy.  And don't say it's for my own safety when you _just_ said, 'we're gonna be thrown into the real world sooner or later.'  Wasn't that right?  That we have to be prepared for when that happens, because we won't be protected forever?  _Pretty_ sure that's what all of you just said."

The group squirmed uncomfortably, and Tessa managed, "Yeah, but you still have a ways to go at Hogwarts, Sam--"

"What makes six years all that long if three years seems so short?  And why would the Demons wait for kids to graduate before attacking them?  They don't care how young or old or weak you are, they just wreak havoc 'cause it's _fun_.  Dean, you remember the one who killed Jim, right?"

Dean blinked at the sudden reminder, mind flashing back to that vague, teary memory.  "Y-yeah," he stammered, "I remember her."

"She _enjoyed_ it," Sam spat.  "She sliced his throat because she wanted to, not because she needed to know where Dad was, not because Jim was any sort of threat to her.  That's what the Demons do, all so they can watch people's pain.  She wanted to see _our_ pain, whether we were kids or not."

Dean was speechless, but he didn't need to find any words because the sliding doors burst open right behind him and Ellen ordered, "Can you boys keep it down?!  For cryin' out loud, they can probably hear you in Texas!"

She was looking most pointedly at Dean, which was downright unfair since Sam had done all the shouting.

He started to protest, "But I--"

"No buts.  Now all of you, upstairs, we're expecting company."

"You've already GOT compa--"

"NOW."

She slammed the doors shut, and once again there was just a low hissing sound coming from the other side.  Dean gave Sam a pissy look, and simply got a bitch face directed back at him.  Still trying to shake off what Sam had said about that Demon, Dean stomped off to his room, followed by his friends and brother who were all much more somber about it.

At the top of the stairs, it seemed the four non-Winchesters were telepathic, since they made the silent, unanimous decision to all go into Cas' usual room, while Dean and Sam were left in the hallway to think about what they'd said.

But of course, neither of them _wanted_ to talk about it, so Dean huffed and went into his own room, shutting the door.

A second later, Sam opened it back up and stalked inside, saying, "I'm sleeping here too, y'know."

"For now," Dean grumbled, sitting in bed and perusing the newspaper.

Sam exhaled.  "Dean... you're such a jerk."

"Back atcha, bitch."

Neither could help smiling just a tiny bit.  Sam laid down on his sleeping bag and put his hands under his head, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.  "Do you ever miss Dad?" he asked suddenly.

Dean's newspaper crackled as he set it down.  "Yeah, of course I miss Dad.  All the time.  Why are you bringing this up?"

"I don't think I do."

"What?"

"I don't really miss him.  I don't think things are better when he's around, and I don't like the way he talks to us."

"Woah, Sam, he's our--"

"Yeah, I _know_ he's our Dad.  I didn't say I don't feel bad about what I think.  But it _is_ what I think."

Dean scratched his head.  "C'mon Sam, he's done everything for us!"

"Yeah, like being here for us, teaching us how to ride broomsticks, reading us stories and tucking us into bed--"

"Sam, you--"

"--making breakfast on Saturdays, taking us to see his favorite Quidditch team--"

"Just stop!" Dean choked.  "You got no idea, Sam, what he--"

"What he's done for us?" Sam interrupted yet again.  "Dean, that's not for us, that's--"

"That's not what I was gonna say," Dean whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Sam's eyes searched Dean's face for a moment, before he opened his mouth to speak.

There was a quick, sharp tap on the window to which both the boys turned their heads suddenly.  Two owls were standing there with several thick letters strapped to their feet, and the more mottled brown one rapped on the window again.

Oh well, Dean thought.  Leave the conversation alone for a while, give it time to brew, wait til Sam could see just how much John Winchester obviously cared about his sons.

Sam got up and opened the window, then the owls lifted their claws in unison, pointing their large eyes expectantly at the two boys.  Dean also got to his feet to help untie the envelopes from one owl's leg while Sam undid the other, and as soon as that was done the two birds flew off without so much as one acknowledging hoot.

That dark green ink was unmistakable, and the wax seal was a pretty good hint too, that they'd just recieved their Hogwarts letters.

"I've got mine and Cas and Tessa's," Sam announced, flipping through his stack.

"I've got Ron, Jo, and me.  Guess we should go tell 'em."

"Guess we should."

Sam avoided Dean's narrowed eyes, walking past him and into the hallway, where Dean followed.  He knocked on the girls' bedroom door and Jo opened it.

"Are those--?"

"Yeah," Dean answered.

The brothers stepped inside and handed each parcel to its respective owner.

"It's kind of thick this year," Tessa commented.  "And heavy."

"Both of yours were," Sam directed at her and Cas.

"You guys, too," Dean looked at Ron and Jo, then at the letter in his hands.  "Mine's not."

Jo and Tessa exchanged wide-eyed glances, like they'd realized something that everyone else had not.  They tore open their envelopes and tipped them over, so that into each of their hands fell a small, gold pin in the shape of a shield bearing a smooth, black letter "P."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed and it took his mind a moment to process what that meant - enough time for Ron and Cas to pull out their own "P" badges.  Then it clicked.

"Shurley made _your asses_ prefects?!"

"It would appear so..." Cas muttered, holding the pin between two fingers and examining it.

"But..." Dean protested, after being momentarily distracted by Cas' hands, "Dude, no offense, but why?  Plus, isn't that favoritism, picking all the teacher's kids?  Hmm?"

"I'm not a teacher's kid," Ron pointed out.

"Well, I don't see why he'd make you a prefect either!  You're... well, you..."  Dean found himself at a loss for words.

Sam shrugged.  "Makes sense to me."

Dean gave Sam a cold glare.

Jo raised an eyebrow and said, "What, did you think he'd make _you_ one, Dean?"

Taken aback, Dean flapped his lips open and closed.

"Have you actually counted the number of times you've been in detention?" Tessa asked.

"But... Crowley's always..."

"Or how many times Devereaux's caught you sneaking to the kitchens at night?" Ron hopped on the bandwagon.

"Or that you were once caught sneaking into the _headmaster's_ office?" Cas joined too.

Dean threw his hands up.  "You guys _helped_ me with that!  You and Jo got detention for a week too, remember?  That's exactly my point, is you're all guilty by association, for letting me get into all that trouble!  What's Shurley thinking, that by making all my friends prefects they'll _make_ me behave?"

The four of them exchanged looks, then Dean stared incredulously as their meek expressions turned back to him, Cas giving a shrug that made Dean's stomach flip.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Dean, maybe it's--"

"Cas, don't you dare say it's for the best.  This is torture."

The boy shrugged his goddamn shoulders again, and Dean's frown deepened at the uncomfortable sensation that hit his stomach a second time.  It persisted as Dean watched Cas' hands play with the prefect badge again, so he labeled it as jealousy and decided that the best course of action was to stomp out of the room and read his own booklist in peace.

~~~

The next day, all the people who had come for the big important meeting were gone, so Ellen and Bobby held a  prefect's party for the lucky four.  Dean felt like his insides were going to shrivel up and die inside him at the thought of all that power going to his friends and him being subject to it.

Then again, when they were cutting the cake, Dean realized that prefects couldn't really do that much.  All this would accomplish was stopping his friends from getting into trouble _with_ him, which was also less fun, but not that bad.

So why did he still feel so awful?

Cas taking a bite of cake reminded Dean that he should be doing the same.  Looking down at the frosted slice felt like coming out of a trance, and he realized he'd barely looked away from Cas that whole evening.

That lucky prefect bastard...

Hmm, being angry at him didn't give him any satisfaction the way it would if Dean was jealous.  It just didn't feel right to wish that he'd gotten a prefect badge, too.  So, it was something else.

Cas licked away a bit of frosting that was stuck in the corner of his lips and Dean accidentally dropped his fork.  Which was just a coincidence.  Dean was just clumsy.  His tightening stomach had nothing to do with the way Cas' slumpy shoulders moved when he shrugged or the fact that Dean couldn't get it out of his goddamn head.

Oh god, he was gonna be sick and he didn't even know why.  If this wasn't jealousy then _what the fuck was it?_   Because Dean really wanted to know so he could fix it, then will himself to eat some freakin' cake.

"Are you alright, Dean?"  Cas' voice was soft, just so Dean could hear it, since Cas was directly across from him and they were both at the very end of the table.

He made a sharp intake of breath and leaned back in his chair, staring at the cake because he could no longer look at Cas.

The boy only leaned in closer.  "Dean?  What's wrong?"

"What's this make me?" he whispered, then was shocked at his own unexpected words.

Dean looked up from the stupid cake to see Cas was taken aback.  "What do you mean?"

"You're prefect material and I'm... I'm not," Dean sighed, surprised to find the words coming out of their own accord.  "So what makes us friends?  What makes me good enough to be friends with you?"

Cas' expression softened and Dean really, seriously needed help with this whole puking feeling.  It was moving up as well, 'cause his ribcage gave a good squeeze when Cas said, "Dean.  I ask myself the same thing all the time.  How I got so lucky that one day you let me play Quidditch with you and ever since then you've been right by my side.  Even when I was upset with you for no good reason, all you wanted to do was make it better.  If anything, _you're_ the better person."

Dean let his head fall and shook it, saying, "Cas, I... what the hell, man, I dunno what movie you've been watching 'cause you've always been too good for me.  Dating Bela was my biggest mistake, that was plenty reason to hate me, which you did.  _That's_ what I deserve."

"For me to hate you?  To put it in your own words, Dean, 'not gonna happen.'"

Cas raised his eyebrows and ate another bite of cake, not looking away from Dean.

He sighed and let the corner of his mouth twitch up a little.  After all the time they spent together this summer, damn straight their friendship was tighter than ever.  No prefect badge could get in the way of that.  Though that lurch in his guts when Cas smiled back might.

There was a loud crashing noise from the basement that startled everyone, then Ellen sighed and set down her napkin, saying, "I'll handle it."

"You sure?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, it'll just take a sec--"

"What was that?" Jo interrupted.

"A houseguest, hon, I'm just gonna go tell him to quiet down--"

"I thought everybody left," Sam pointed out.

Bobby shrugged.  "All but one."

Dean and Cas shared confused looks but no one said anything else, listening as Ellen went down the steps, all of them waiting for some clue.

"Listen up," Bobby interrupted their silence, "You don't wanna mess around with this guy.  Stay _out_ of the basement--hell, don't even let him know you're here.  Got that?"

There was a chorus of mumbled "Yes, sir"s.

It didn't stop their curiosity, and Bobby knew as much.  "If he sees you, we're all good as dead.  He ain't messin' around, and neither should you."

That got them a little more worried, which was exactly what Bobby wanted.  He nodded in satisfaction then got up from the table as well and started on the dishes.

~~~

Someone in the Order was sent to pick up their school supplies, because they woke up a few mornings later to find six neat piles of books and basic potion ingredients on the kitchen table.  It served as a reminder that there was only one week left until school started, and suddenly summer felt like it had flown past in a blur.  So much had happened, it seemed, and yet Dean had forgotten all of it already.

Sam's eyes brightened when he saw his stack of second-year books, so much so that Dean wished he'd had a photograph of it.  "Only one more week!" Sam exclaimed.

"I know," Dean chuckled, "Ya big nerd."

Sam scowled and retorted, "Maybe you didn't notice because all of your friends have been here for the past month, but I haven't seen any of _my_ friends since June."

"Oh yeah, what's her name?  Jessica?"

Dean grinned at the color that rose in Sam's cheeks, and started laughing when Sam hastily brushed him off to take all his books upstairs.  Of course, he had to come back down for breakfast, throughout which Dean kept teasing him by fluttering his eyelashes and pretending to have long, curly blonde hair.

That made Cas chuckle in his seat next to Dean, who turned and felt a sudden tightening in his throat at the boy's bright face, both in expression and in that the sunlight streaming through the window appeared to be pouring over Cas and Cas alone.

After a moment, Cas' eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head, which only made Dean's stomach flip again, but he forced it down and laughed, "Since when do you glow like that, Cas?  Did ya... get into an accident or something when you were trying to make yourself grow a beard?  If you were trying to be more manly, you got the opposite effect..."  Dean coughed awkwardly, having hoped for a change in Cas' expression.  He shrugged.  "I'm jus' sayin."

Cas rolled his eyes and turned his focus back to his plate, so Dean cleared his throat and did the same.  He saw the others exchange looks in his peripheral vision and mumbled, " _I_ thought it was funny."

He was spared their rolling eyes by Bobby, grabbing their attention as he squinted out the window and said, "Huh."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"It's still pretty far away, but... I think it's an owl," the man answered.  He ate another bite of sausage, then got out of his seat and waited by the window as the tiny shape that was still hovering over the distant trees quickly grew.  When it was obvious that it was both definitely an owl, and definitely headed straight for the kitchen, Bobby opened the glass so it could flutter inside and land on the counter with a tiny roll of parchment tied to its left leg.

The man took the letter, but its orb-like eyes were still gazing at the meal on the table, so he sighed and gave it a sausage for its journey.  With a satisfied hoot, it flew off again.

Bobby turned the scroll that was no more than three inches wide over in his fingers, then saw something that made him breathe in sharply, then let it out with a sigh.  He handed it to Dean.

"To my boys," Dean read aloud, then gasped and unrolled it on the table so Sam could see it too.

_Dear Boys,_

_I’m sorry you haven’t heard from me in a while, the last year’s been difficult.  I want to make it up to you._

_I’ll meet you at the house on August 31 st and drive you to the station for your train the next day.  We can spend the night in the city if you want.  Hope to hear all about my youngest's first year._

_Love,_

_Dad_

“What’s it say?” Bobby asked.

Dean blinked, trying to breathe past the tightness in his throat.  Sam answered for him, frowning, “Dad wants to drive us from here to Denver the day before the Hogwarts Express.”

Bobby’s eyebrows went up.  “He does?”

“Wants to... spend time with us or something.”

“’Cause he’s our dad, Sammy,” Dean choked.

“He could act a lot more like it sometimes!  He hasn’t even talked to us for a _year_.”

“Yeah, and we also haven’t heard a peep from the Demons since--“  Dean stopped himself from finishing that sentence, and instead skipped ahead to the next one, “So I bet you anything Dad was just doing his job.”

“Taking care of us _is_ his job, Dean!  It wasn’t Jim’s, it’s not Bobby’s, and it’s not _yours_ , so he needs to stop--“

“SAM!” Dean shouted without thinking.

“Both o’ you sit back down and lemme tell you somethin’,” Bobby ordered, and they obeyed.  “I’m not sayin’ John and I have always been on good terms.  Hell, time I saw him before last, we had wands at each other's throats.  What you boys need to know is that as many stupid things as he’s done, he loves you from the bottom of his damned heart.  He’s an idjit, but he’s your father.  You’re both right, so stop arguin’.”

This was more about John Winchester than any of Dean's friends knew up to this point.  In their first year, Dean had bragged that his father was a brave auror who did what no one else was willing to do in the fight against Demons, but that hadn't said much about who he actually was.  As Dean was now realizing with Bobby's words, he didn't know his own father that well to begin with.

Cas placed a placating hand on Dean's arm, but all it did was make Dean's heart beat faster, then he looked up at Cas' sympathizing face and wanted to curl into a ball.  What the fuck was happening to him?  Why did he feel sick all the time, and why did he want to blame Cas for it?

"Okay," Sam said, interrupting the moment and glaring at Dean.  "I just hope Dad doesn't think this makes up for everything."

Dean opened his mouth, but a look from Bobby shut it again.

And that was the end of the discussion.  Sam scowled and Dean huffed, and then they finished their breakfast in silence.

Dean kept reading and re-reading the note every day, trying to imagine actually seeing his dad again, and never being quite able to picture it.  It had been so long, he wondered what the man looked like now - would his beard be longer, would he have shaved it, will his wrinkles be deeper, his voice more tired?  Dean honestly didn’t know, and it was hard to sink in that he would find out soon.

~~~

In those last few days, the house was much quieter, as only the occasional Order member, also called a Hunter (no thanks to Bobby for informing them), stopped by to check in.  There were no more large meetings that ran all night, nor days on end with a constant stream of news coming in and out.  It was strange that even when the Demons themselves were underground keeping their silence, missing persons and unusual deaths still abounded.

But now, Dean could tell, they had a plan in motion so they were limiting contact.  In the meantime, the teenagers got the house almost to themselves again, and with school starting so soon, Bobby allowed them a break from most of their chores.  All this free time and space...

So they spent it mostly sprawling around the living room, doing absolutely nothing.

Cas was reading a book and using Dean's calves as a pillow, while Dean lay on his stomach, head propped up by his school robes that he still needed to pack.  He was torn between kicking Cas off or just lying there eternally, letting the lurching of his insides slowly kill him.  He still had no idea what was happening - maybe someone had him under a sickness spell of some kind - but at any rate, he was beginning to get accustomed to his inexplicable affliction.

Bobby came in, seeing all six kids spread around the room in similar relaxing poses, and cleared his throat.

Their heads jerked up at the sudden noise, and Bobby gave a satisfied smirk.  "That was easy.  You wanna see somethin'?"

"See what?" asked Dean, hoping that Bobby would finally let them go down to the basement.

Instead, the man revealed what he'd been holding behind his back: a black and white photo.  He explained, "It's the Hunter's Order, at our first official meeting.  Thought you guys might wanna see some o' your parents from back in the day."

Dean got up with haste and snatched the picture out of Bobby's hands, then was crowded by the others trying to get a look.

Bobby was just off-center, holding hands with his dark-haired wife who smiled just like Cas.  Next to her was Ellen and her husband, who Jo didn't take after much except in the jaunty way he stood with his arms crossed.  Tessa's father was by himself on the far right, looking almost exactly as he did now, perhaps with a hairline that was a bit further forward.  In the back row were several other people Dean didn't recognize, except for Travis, who had his arm slung over the shoulders of a man with very similar features, probably a younger brother.

Rufus was right behind Bobby, patting his hand on his shoulder, and just to the left of Bobby was John Winchester, standing proudly next to Mary Winchester.  The two kept looking at each other instead of the camera, and they had their arms wrapped around each other's waists.  Dean didn't recognize anyone else to their left, but Ron gasped and pointed, "That's the Headmaster!"

He looked more closely and realized that that well-shaven young man _was_ Chuck Shurley, almost unrecognizable.

Tessa grabbed the photo so she, Jo, and Sam could see it better and said, "Wow, he looks..."

"Time's changed us all," Bobby replied when Tessa's voice drifted off.

"No kidding.  Well, except for my dad, but I knew that.  I've seen pictures of him before, it's like he's never changed."

Bobby nodded.  "Yeah, he's always been a bit of an old soul."

She started to hand the picture back to him but he held up his hands and said, "No, you keep it.  I've got copies."

Tessa looked at the object in her hands thoughtfully, then stretched her arm toward Dean instead.  "You should keep it."

"What?" he started.

"You should hold onto it for us," she repeated.

A tear that had been welling up ever since he looked at his mother's smiling face now spilled down his cheek, and Dean wiped it away before taking the picture in his hands a second time.  Cas put a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder and rubbed his back a little bit, at which Dean's chest siezed so tightly that he bent over and shed more tears, clutching the photo against his shirt to keep it from getting wet.

 _Ugh, not now,_ Dean pleaded with himself, irrationally thinking, _Crying in front of everyone over a picture of your dead mom is so unmanly._

Cas ran off to get tissues, so Dean set the image on the side table and plopped onto the couch, taking deep breaths.  Sam came over and picked it up, gazing at it until Cas returned and kneeled in front of Dean, trying to dab at his eyes.  Dean jerked his head away, but Cas persisted so Dean had to grab his wrist and say, "Stop it, Cas, I'm--"

But Dean stopped, staring at his fingers loosely wrapped around Cas' unresisting arm and having to take another shuddering breath.  He ran his thumb over the wristbone, then slid his hand up and plucked the tissue out of Cas' fingers so he could sit up and wipe his own eyes.  Cas leaned back, watching Dean with an expression that he couldn't and didn't want to fathom.

"Do... you two need a moment?" Jo asked, raising her eyebrows and fake-coughing.

"No," Dean and Cas snapped at exactly the same time, and both a little too quickly not to be suspicious.

She held up her hands in a sign of surrender, exchanged a look with Tessa, then grabbed Ron's arm and left the room with both of them.  Bobby pretended there was something important in the kitchen and slid the door shut behind him, while Sam stayed put exactly where he was, still holding the picture.

"I always wondered what Mom looked like," he said softly.  But at last, he shrugged and handed the photo back to Dean and walked out of the room as well, picking up one of Bobby's books on the way.

Dean turned the thick paper over in his hands until he heard the back door open and shut, then stood up to leave.  Just as he was stepping around Cas, still sitting in front of the couch, Cas grabbed Dean's hand and spoke, "Dean, wait."

Seriously, this whole nauseating abdominal tightness thing had to stop.  But, it didn't stop Dean from sighing and adjusting his grip to pull Cas up to his feet.  "Sorry, Cas, I snapped."

"I was going to say _I'm_ sorry.  I..." Cas tried to find his words, "invaded your personal space."

"Heh," Dean laughed, "Personal space?  With you?  Can't remember last time I had it."

Cas looked down at his feet, but when his face came back up, he was smiling, chewing his lip.

"Oh c'mere, you big lump," Dean sighed and pulled Cas in for a hug.  It was like his nausea evaporated and was replaced by warm tingling, but then Cas hugged back and breathed into his neck and Dean started to think he could be killed by warm tingling too.  One more deep breath, then Dean let go.

Cas took a step back, looking a little ruffled and out of breath, but... almost glowing again?  Biting his lip, Cas turned and followed the direction Sam had just gone, out the back door.

Dean practically fell back onto the couch and suddenly realized how quickly his chest was rising and falling, his heart beating a merengue for all he could tell.  What just happened there?  That wasn't like any of the hugs they'd had before.  Hell, it was unlike any of the hugs Dean had had in his whole life, which wasn't very many if he really thought about it.

"Uh... okay," he said to the empty room.  "That was weird."

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Sam climbed in the backseat and stared out the rear window at Bobby’s house as they drove away. He shouldn’t have been sad, he’d be at school again tomorrow, but he even missed the company of Dean's friends knowing what was in store for the next 24 hours.

Dean acted like everything was fine. Sure, he could be excited to spend time with Dad - they’d talk nonstop about classic rock and classic cars and all the things that Dean was into just cause he wanted to be a living replica of John Winchester. Sam crossed his arms and stared out the window, still feeling that this idea was pointless and dumb.

They were an hour out of Sioux Falls before John looked at him in the rearview mirror and said, “You’ve been quiet, Sammy. Anythin’ on your mind?”

“Just school.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

Sam shrugged. “Not much.”

“Since when did you ever have ‘not much’ on your mind?”

“Just books and classes, Dad, running next year through my head. It’s not that interesting.”

“That’s strange, ‘cause Dean was just tellin’ me how you’ve made some lady friends--“

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam sighed.

John chuckled and Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam just wanted out. He wanted to be back at school, back in Ravenclaw tower, discussing magic with his housemates, not discussing girls with his dad - Dean could handle that job himself. Just ten minutes ago, Sam had to put up with the entire Bela story being retold with side notes about what a psycho she was every three sentences.

“It’s alright, Sammy,” John said more sincerely now, “You’ve got six more years to get a date, and I’d rather you didn’t worry about it right away.”

“Oh yeah, Sammy’s gotta focus on his studies. He never does homework. He’ll have to work so hard to get good grades, won’tcha, Sammy?” Dean teased.

This was getting tiring. “Stop calling me ‘Sammy.’”

“Okay, grumpy face. Would it be better if I called you Samantha?”

Sam scoffed and looked back out the window, not replying this time. He could have felt bad for being a pain, which he knew he was, but he didn’t have the motivation.

“Wow, pissy much?” Dean mumbled and looked back toward the front.

His plan had worked, because they didn’t bother him much for the rest of the drive.

They got into a motel around dinnertime, and Sam flopped on the bed while John ordered a pizza. Sam couldn’t wait to get back to Hogwarts’ food , but Dean was over the moon about the greasy stuff, and ate it with his usual gusto. He looked up at Sam who was picking at a piece of pepperoni and not saying anything, and this time Dean didn’t appear to want to tease him.

“Hey, Sam, you okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, finally taking a bite.

“Yeah, ‘mm-hmm.’ ‘Mm-hmm’ all you want, but I know somethin’s botherin’ you.”

“I’m just tired. I wanna go back to Hogwarts. The food is better, everything’s better.”

Dean sighed, “Hogwarts is awesome, believe me, I know. But you’ve got, what, twelve hours before we get on the train and summer’s over? Enjoy your last night with no homework!”

“Tell us what it is you like about school so much,” their dad cut in, trying to sound curious.

Sam had to think about it, because he thought it was so obvious it never had to be put in words. It was just... school. It was where he belonged. They wanted there to be a reason, but for Sam he didn’t need one. He loved it there, inexplicably. Dean did too, but it didn’t stand as far above everything else for him as it did for Sam. Especially since they moved to Bobby’s, Dean had Cas to himself all summer, which Sam could see obviously made him happier. With them glued together all the time, Sam was admittedly a little lonely.

How could he say all that? Well, Dean and Cas being disgustingly obvious was a whole different topic, but how would he explain why he felt lonely? At school, he could be a normal kid with a few friends and a favorite subject, not Sammy, the boy with no mother and only half a father. He was tired of being shoved around, and at Hogwarts he could just be stable, be himself.

“No need to be in such a rush,” Dean mumbled.

John’s lips thinned and he acknowledged, “Just one of those things, huh Sam?”

“I just like that I can be normal there. I don’t have to think about our family’s complicated situation all the time, ‘cause I’m busy thinking about normal stuff that every other kid has to think about, too.”

Now his dad averted his eyes and shook his head slightly, saying, “I know things are complicated, and I’m sorry, boys. I wish it could be different.”

“Why don’t you _make_ it different? What’s so important about hunting Demons?”

“The job has never been more important to me than you two, understand?” John replied, reigning back the fire in his eyes. He was inches from yelling. “But I’m the only one who can do it, and I do it to protect you!”

"Hey, hey," Dean held out his hands to calm down both parties, but gave a look at Sam to stop him from trying to rebute. "Let's not ruin the mood, kay? I was actually having fun a minute ago."

Sam took a second bite of pizza, making Dean relax again. Dean suggested that they talk about something else, and then he and John went off on the subject of rock and roll, starting right where they left off in the car on Ritchie Blackmore leaving Deep Purple.

This was all so exciting for Dean, 'cause he could at least relate to their dad. Sam didn't get what was so important about the things they talked about, or how in the world it made up for the fact that they got to see their dad maybe once a year.

What made John think he could fix it now? It was too late for their family, and now all Sam wanted was his new one, the one at school.

Ever since Jim...

Well, that was just it. Pastor Jim was the one who really raised them, he may as well have been their real dad. Or at least Sam's. Sam spent far more time with Jim than Dean ever did. That wasn't a hole that could be refilled by John's attempts at fatherhood, or even Bobby's excellent breakfasts which were always made up of either Dean or Cas' favorite foods. Between Sam and Dean, Dean was clearly Bobby's favorite.

That just wasn't enough, and nothing would be.

The next morning, they arrived at the station and John only walked them as far as the main muggle entrance. Too easy to be recognized if he went near such a gathering of witches and wizards.

"Here's where we say goodbye, then, boys," the man said with a sad smile.

"Bye, Dad," Sam sighed, just waiting to get on the train. John pulled him in for a hug and kissed the top of his head, which was totally unnecessary, really. In public?

Dean got his John's attention when he was done hugging Sam and wrapped his arms around his waist, saying, "See you later, Dad."

"Have a good year, both of you," John nodded, "That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Dean saluted, grinning.

With that, their father turned and went back to the car, letting his sons walk inside the station toward their new year.

~~~

Sam dashed away as soon as they were both through the barrier, ready to escape as soon as possible. Dean shrugged, missing his dad already but refusing to let it put off his whole school year, and headed to find his friends by the baggage car.

"Cas!"

A spiky poof of dark brown popped up on cue, and Dean hurried over, giving Cas a big bear hug even if he did last see Cas twenty-something hours ago.

"How was the drive? Did your father treat you well?"

Dean put on a smile and nodded, "Yeah, it was great! We... got to talk a lot." He sighed, unable to conceal anything from Cas, "He and Sam argued a little, though. Mostly Sam was just plain moody, so... yeah, fun times."

Cas offered a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze on the arm, and Dean almost didn't notice his stomach flipping over again. "I can tell Sam has always been displeased with your father. It's not your fault that they disagree so much."

"Thanks. C'mon let's go find a seat."

The two boys walked toward the middle of the train in search of the rest of the gang, and soon heard Tessa's voice from behind them, shouting, "Hey, guys!"

"Hey! You seen Jo and Ron anywhere?" Dean asked when he saw that they weren't with her.

"Yeah, they're in the prefects' carriage. We're supposed to go there first for instructions. You comin', Cas?"

"Oh," Cas and Dean said in unison, exchanging a glance.

"I forgot," Cas admitted, biting his lip. He turned to Dean big, apologetic eyes that could melt anyone's heart, let alone Dean's currently weakened one.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "It's fine, you gotta do what you gotta do. I'll find somewhere to sit and you can come find me later. It's no big deal."

"I'm sorry, I wish we didn't--"

"I know, Cas. Go on, I'll see you later."

"Sorry, Dean!" Tessa called, waving goodbye with Cas in tow.

_Great. No, this is good, the train ride will be nice n' quiet without all those wackos. Who needs 'em?_

He hitched his backpack a little higher and stepped into the next car over, looking for the least terrible people to sit with he could find. He had to be careful not to choose an empty compartment, since then any number of annoying people could end up sitting with him. No, it had to be something...

Aha, this wasn't so bad! Demian and Barnes, the two beaters for Hufflepuff, were playing slap jack with a deck of exploding cards and there was no one else with them. Cas seemed to get along with them, so Dean figured he'd give it a try.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, sliding open the door with a sheepish smile.

Their heads whipped toward him and they both gawked for a second before catching themselves. Barnes, the one Dean thought had a crush on Cas that one time, stammered, "Oh, uh... hi, Dean. You, um, sure! Yeah, come on in!"

Dean set his backpack by the window and sat opposite them, folding his hands in his lap.

Demian, who'd gotten pretty damn close to breaking Dean's face with a Bludger several times last year, furrowed his eyebrows asking, "Where's your gang?"

"Prefect duty."

Barnes snorted and tried to cover it up, mumbling, "Heh, he said duty."

"Ooh, Cas and Tessa get to be our prefects?" Demian kept going. "That's cool. They're both nice."

"Yeah, they're... they're cool. Not sure why Shurley picked Ron and Jo, though, since it's not like they've never gotten into trouble." He tried to laugh, but just cleared his throat and shrugged instead.

Demian and Barnes shared a knowing look that Dean tried to ignore by staring out the window, which was now whizzing past the fields outside the city at magical speed.

"So I guess you're stuck with us, huh?" Barnes cut into the awkward silence. "Wanna play exploding crazy eights?"

Dean was incredibly grateful for their friendliness, especially since he knew he was seen as 'that one Gryffindor kid who was always having some kind of drama.' And now that every single one of his close friends was a prefect, there was no way he'd be allowed to cause quite as much trouble (or nick quite so many pastries from the kitchen).

Two minutes into their game, the compartment door was slid open again by a red-faced, red-haired girl hauling a trunk and an owl looking ruffled up and miffed in its cage. "Hi," she panted. "Everywhere else is full."

Dean recognized her as Anna Milton, a social lone wolf despite being Slytherin's best chaser. She must've been carrying all her crap up and down the train for the past ten minutes, since that was how long it had been out of the station.

"Come on in!" Barnes welcomed just as three of the cards in his hand sparked and vaporized. He swore under his breath and picked up four more from the deck.

Dean stood up with his most charming grin and said, "Need a hand?"

She placed her owl cage on top of his outstretched palm, then quickly tossed her trunk up on the overhead rack and brushed her hands together like it was nothing. "Thanks," she said, inclining her head and taking back the bird.

He cleared his throat. "No problem. Want us to deal you in?"

Anna glanced over at the game and shrugged. "No, but thanks. Mind if I let my owl out? She needs to straighten out her wings. It was kind of a... rough ride just now."

The three boys looked at each other, shaking their heads lightly, and chorused, "Sure," "Yeah, go ahead," and "I don't mind."

She set it down and opened the latch so it could step out onto the seat, preening.

"Almost late for the train?" Dean asked. "Don't worry, I almost missed it last year. Happens to everyone."

"Well, I'm normally here early enough to find my own compartment. Plus, I think there's more people on the train this year - there's two whole cabins in the back filled with... old people."

"Like... professors?" Demian suggested.

"I didn't recognize _any_ of them."

Dean wondered if they were members of the Order. After all, Chuck Shurley was the founder (he _had_ to be older than he looked), and now the Headmaster of Hogwarts - it could have something to do with them. What if they were sent to protect the school?

No, there were easier ways to get there than this. They had to be _on the train_ for a specific purpose. Maybe they thought something could happen en route?

"What do you think, Dean?"

"Hmm?" He broke out of his trance and looked back from the window to the other people in the compartment. "Oh. Yeah. Bureau stuff, probably."

He'd clearly missed something they said, but Demian and Barnes just shrugged and went back to their game. Anna bit her lip and raised her eyebrows at Dean, who frowned back 'cause her expression reminded him of Cas, but in a 'Cas does it better' way. Awesome, now he was back to wishing his friends were here. Apparently, nothing could distract him for very long.

"Bad day?"

"Bad week," he admitted.

"Yeah, this is my first year without Gabe and Balthy to keep me company, so I get the feeling."

"You were friends with those guys?" He recalled his first trip to Hogsmeade with Cas, and how they ran into two sixth-year Slytherins making out in the Honeyduke's basement. He _also_ remembered the particular rivalry between Henricksen and Gabriel, captains of their opposing teams last year. Nobody really knew how Gabe got that responsibility, since he spent most of his time playing pranks on all the really douchey students, and it was probably because of that his team got last place.

Anna glared defensively. "We were neighbors growing up. They were always telling me about Hogwarts, mostly made-up stuff, but yeah, we were friends."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like... I was just surprised cause they're three years older than us," Dean amended.

She sighed, "Yeah, everyone thinks that. They're kind of like older brothers to me, though. Y'know?"

Smiling, he chuckled, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"It's Sam, right?"

"My little brother? Yeah. He's a smarty-pants."

"You're not that dumb yourself, Dean. Last year when you slowed your friend's fall during the match? I'd never heard of that spell before."

Dean blinked. "I guess I just... picked it up somewhere."

"Please, no need to flatter yourself. I'm serious, you saving Cas was... unbelievable."

He scratched his head, speechless. He'd never been complimented like this, let alone by someone he barely knew, and he didn't think he deserved it; honestly, out of all the people he knew, he was the least capable, the least smart, the least talented. That was obviously why they all got to be prefects and he didn't.

Oh, _now_ he's jealous?

 _No, just lonely_.

Dean hated his own brain and mustered, "Thanks, I, um... thanks."

Anna smiled and petted her owl, turning her attention to the two boys playing their card game. The conversation, now including the whole compartment, quickly centered on Quidditch, a thing they all knew they had in common. They talked about their favorite teams and memorable plays by their favorite members, and before they knew it, the candy trolley was rolling by.

Eventually, Dean's friends came and found him stuffing his face with pumpkin pasties while laughing and watching Demian reenact the greatest fumble in history by a player for the Alabama Armadillos.

"See you found some new friends," Jo said as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Oh hey," Dean turned, grinning with his mouth full, "dhoo ah know youh?"

"Well, we definitely don't know you, not with that ugly face."

"I could write you up now for talking with your mouth full, Dean," Ron cut in. "So watch out."

Dean swallowed and saluted, then compared the number of people to the size of the compartment. "I think we'll be a little squished in here, you guys."

"That's okay," Tessa answered. "We're supposed to be patrolling."

"Some prefects you are already. Slacking off, talking to losers like me..."

"Dean," Cas rolled his eyes. "You know we'd sit with you the whole ride if we could."

"Yeah, I know, I just..." his voiced drifted off. _Fuck, I have abandonment issues, don't I?_

"Hey, we could take turns patrolling, couldn't we?" Tessa suggested.

"Wait, that's actually a really good idea," Jo agreed, "Just go two at a time, switching off. Boys, you first, I'm tired of first years wetting their pants every time I look at them."

Even as she said it, Jo plopped down on the seat next to Anna, stealing a handful of Every Flavor Beans and stuffing them all in her mouth at once, not even flinching at what had to be an awful combination of flavors.

Ron and Cas exchanged looks and sighed, resigning themselves to the job as Tessa grinned and followed Jo's suit.

"We'll see you shortly, no doubt," Cas waved, giving Dean a sad smile.

"Are those exploding cards?" Jo asked casually, after the compartment door was once again closed.

Demian and Barnes' eyes widened fearfully and Demian's voice cracked, "Uh... no."

Barnes inched his hand toward the pile that had been abandoned at least two hours ago, making a furtive attempt at putting them away, but Jo laughed before he could get to it. "I'm not gonna confiscate them. Was wondering if anyone wanted to try Texas Hold 'Em."

~~~

The train ride was over before he knew it, and they came screeching to a halt at the Hogsmeade station. The four prefects were already in the back of the train, getting ready to help unload luggage, so it was just the other three in the compartment with Dean.

As Anna was lifting her trunk out of the overhead bin, she smiled at Dean and said, "This was surprisingly fun. Maybe we should hang out more often."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and nodded back, "Yeah, totally. That'd be--oh wait, did you mean...? _Oh_. I'm sorry, I--not that there's--I just... look, I've just had a bad experience with Slytherin girls, so--"

"Shut up, I'm not asking you on a date," she laughed, "I mean you and your friends are cooler than I thought you'd be, and I don't have any real friends in my house anymore. So we should all hang out sometimes if that's okay."

"Oh! Heh, sorry, I'm sorta bad with the--yeah." He coughed, imagining Cas' bemused face if he could see Dean right now. "Oh, totally, that'd be awesome. Come sit at our table, there's room for members of every house."

"Thanks. I'll see you around, Dean." She waved, still shaking her head with laughter as she walked into the aisle and disappeared.

The two Hufflepuffs finished packing all their games and throwing away candy wrappers just in time to see her go, and Demian chuckled at Dean's expense, "Dude, that was a lame excuse you almost gave her if she'd actually been asking you out."

"Excuse?"

"'Bad experience with Slytherin girls'? C'mon, man."

"Well, what else was I supposed to say?"

"I don't know. I'm curious, like... over summer break... did you and Cas..."

Dean's bewildered frown deepened. "Did me and Cas what?"

"It's okay, we'll understand, Dean," Barnes joined in.

"Understand what?" _What the fuck were they talking about?_

"If you're dating!" Demian whispered, "You and Cas!"

It took a second for Dean to register the spinning red lights going off like alarms inside his head. "WOAH, there," he yelled, eyes going wide. "Cas and I are _friends_ , okay? Though I know _he's_ , you know, _gay_ , but I'm not the one who told you--"

"It's okay, Dean, we know about that," Barnes calmed him, holding up his hands.

Dean's mouth opened and closed silently a couple times before he got out, "You--you do? Jesus, does everyone in Hufflepuff know or something?"

"No, but some of the team knows. It's just... something we picked up on, is all." Demian shrugged.

"What does he do, tape pictures of hot men in his locker?!"

" _No_ , he doesn't, Dean, look, we're sorry for assuming anything," Barnes apologized. "You're obviously just... really close friends."

"Yes, _obviously_."

There was a moment of awkward silence where Dean looked back and forth between Demian and Barnes, who were staring at the ceiling and the floor respectively, both rocking on their heels.

"Oh my god, you two are an item, aren't you? That's why you can just _tell_ when you look at Cas, huh? Yeah, and maybe you wanted to suggest that the four of us go on _double dates_ and plant _flowers_ ," he spat.

"Hey, you're being a dick right now, you know that," Demian countered, which Dean knew he deserved.

He winced and gritted out, "Sorry, guys. It's just... maybe you could read Cas, but you couldn't read me. Sometimes you're just wrong... and I'm not what you thought."

"Okay," Barnes nodded. "Point well taken."

Dean ran his hand through his hair as he turned and left, flicking it forward again once he was out the door. He felt he really should _actually_ stick his foot in his mouth rather than speak to anyone ever again.

The students had already poured out onto the platform in Hogsmeade, and first years headed off toward the boats. They and Rufus’ lantern had bobbed out of sight, and half the carriages were filled by the time Dean approached them. That was when icy cold fell over the late-Summer night.

They all saw what caused it when several black-cloaked figures floated in from every direction, breath rasping. Most of the students screamed.

Immediately, Aurors - and several Hunters Dean recognized, who must've been the adults Anna saw on the train - shoved their way into the middle of the throng, casting patronuses to counter the attack; meanwhile, the professors who were present finished ushering students into stagecoaches. Dean went in circles trying to find Sam and get him safely in a carriage, but Sam was nowhere to be found.

Dean pivoted, still searching, but suddenly found himself face-to-face with one of the figures - or rather, face-to-hooded black shadow.

He sucked in a breath, shocked, but the air was so cold it burned his throat and lungs so he choked, still staring into that thing’s hood, panicking.

Then he heard his father’s voice, but his father _couldn’t_ have been here. He was yelling and Dean couldn’t understand the words, and there was a roaring in his ears like billowing flames, and the sound of a baby crying...

Someone yelled, _“Expecto patronum!”_    Suddenly, a silvery light that seemed to run on four legs chased away the thing that had been in front of Dean, but his vision was blurry and getting darker by the second. He could still hear the baby coming from somewhere close, and the smell of smoke surrounded him even as he vaguely felt someone’s hands holding up his head. What was burning in this cold? He couldn’t see the flames...

The next thing he heard was, “Dean! Dean, are you alright?”

That was Cas’ voice, Dean knew Cas’ voice. So where had his father and the baby gone? And the smell of smoke was gone too, which didn’t seem right. “Yeah. Was there a fire?” he asked.

“Um... no,” Cas answered, sounding almost as confused as Dean felt.

Dean blinked and looked up. Cas’ face was there, but it seemed a little wobbly, which was when Dean noticed the ground underneath him was moving. He was lying on something cushioned, and three more people besides Cas were staring at him intently from across the way.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tessa asked.

The last few details came into focus and he said, more to himself than anyone, “We’re in a carriage, on our way up to the school.”

Cas frowned, the concern on his face getting deeper. “Yes, we are.”

“Thought I was somewhere else for a sec,” he muttered.

Dean tried to sit up, but Cas pressed his hand to his chest (Dean breathed in sharply) and made him stay put. “You fainted, you can’t sit up yet.”

“I what?”

“You fainted,” came Jo’s voice. “A dementor almost had you, and you fainted right as it dropped you.”

“Why did it drop me?” Dean thought of the glowing animal that had run it off, realizing that it had been a wolf.

“Jo cast a _wicked_ patronus,” Ron answered.

“I had no _idea_ you could do that, by the way,” Tessa added.

Dean was still confused about a couple things, though. “Then where was my dad? And the baby?”

All four of them exchanged glances and Cas said, “Your father wasn’t here, and there was no baby. What are you talking about?”

“I heard them! My dad was shouting something at me, there was a baby crying, and it smelled like smoke... Oh.”

“What?”

“That was... nevermind. I was delirious.” Dean took a deep breath, shoving the memory back down where he’d put it so long ago. He wanted to talk about something else now. “So that’s what dementors really look like?”

Thankfully no one seemed to mind the subject-change, glad to drop the thought that Dean was going insane. The rest of the carriage ride was uneventful, but Dean still felt like he was going to be sick so he laid back and listened to everyone else converse. Cas' voice had gotten deeper than ever during the summer and it made Dean's head tingle pleasantly, easing the nausea.

They knew that Jo was pretty great at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but they had no idea that she’d taught herself to cast a patronus. Apparently she’d been practicing for two years. Dean was pretty damn grateful for that, or he’d have been a soulless zombie by now. Speaking of soulless zombies, he still needed to find Sam and make sure he was okay after that disaster. As soon as the carriages stopped and the shaken students hurried inside the castle, he stumbled out - much to Cas’ protest - and ran from group to group until he found Sam with his friends and gave him a full check-up.

“Dean, what the hell?! I’m fine! Quit worrying!”

“Worryin’s my job. I have to be sure, don’t I?”

“Ugh,” Sam sulked, “You’re not my freakin’ mother. Plus, you’re the one who looks like crap, what happened?”

Dean shrugged. “Had a horrifying flashback, fainted, nothin’ new.”

“What?!”

“Dean, there you are. You shouldn’t be running around, you need to eat chocolate! I was going to give it to you as soon as you sat up, but then you ran off!”

Cas just showed up, Dean realized belatedly. He wobbled on the spot and processed what Cas had just said. “Eat chocolate? Not that I’m opposed, but why?”

“Honestly, you’re still about to fall over. You need it. I don’t want you to faint again.”

“Now who’s acting like mommy,” Dean grumbled and took the bar from Cas’ hands. "Stupid prefect."

Surprisingly, one bite and he was feeling almost himself again. Sam walked off to his own table while Cas dragged Dean by the arm to his, sitting him down and pressing his palm to Dean’s forehead. Two tables down, Bela was reenacting Dean's incident, then mimicking Cas babying Dean and making smoochy faces. Dean had really hoped she'd gotten over herself by now.

He took another bite of chocolate. “I feel fine now, Cas, really.”

“Are you sure?" Cas was now fixing Dean's hair, making Bela start mock-cooing at them, and really not helping the nausea go away as Dean's insides did somersaults. "You... you did faint.”

“Can we please stop saying that? I... lost consciousness _._ ”

“You pissed your pants, more like it,” Jo said, now sitting down with the other two.

Tessa took her spot and shivered a little. “Facing Dementors, I’d say fainting isn’t the worst you could do. We were all pretty frightened.”

“Yeah, but none of _you_ passed out.”

Chuck took the podium, and the tensely whispering students went silent. “Uh...” he began lamely, “I don’t have a speech for this, to be honest. Professor Gardner told me all students are accounted for, so... that’s good.” He coughed, and the students rustled. “What’s important is that you’re all okay. You’ll always be safe at Hogwarts.”

Those words reassured everyone, even coming from their nervous Headmaster. The thought was in the back of everyone’s minds as it was, and all they needed was to be reminded that Hogwarts was quite possibly the safest place on Earth. Some uneasiness was still there, but it was all just aftershock. Dean felt like he could already forget the whole thing, what with the chocolate bar he’d devoured.

The Headmaster nodded and finished, “So, the feast must go on, right? Let’s... get started.”

Mrs. Mosely brought in the first years through the front doors, and Dean sighed gratefully that they were safe too. The Dementors had only gone for the train platform, not the lake, and they were already safely in the boats by then.

She placed the Sorting Hat up front on the stool, and after a moment of silence, it opened its brim and sang:

_At certain times of great distress_   
_I find that sorting isn't best..._   
_I beg you, do not be alarmed,_   
_The sorting will go on unharmed,_   
_But first allow me to explain_   
_How Hogwarts won't be whole again_   
_Unless the students find the will_   
_To free themselves of boundaries ill:_   
_When founders four built this address,_   
_They never did suppose_   
_That their ideas would clash, and so_   
_These boundaries impose;_   
_Great friends, indeed, and teachers, all_   
_With minds of one accord_   
_That knowledge is a gift and tool,_   
_And not a gift to hoard._   
_Though Gryffindor desired to teach_   
_The students bold and daring,_   
_Asked Slytherin for pure of blood_   
_And cunning never sparing;_   
_Rowena Ravenclaw picked out_   
_Those with the sharpest minds,_   
_And Hufflepuff welcomed the rest_   
_And taught them to be kind._   
_And so they started this fine school_   
_A place of love and learning_   
_But not long after, dissonance_   
_Between them started churning;_   
_For though each House had virtues plenty_   
_They started to believe_   
_That one should stand above the rest_   
_The others at their feet._   
_Then such a clamor did arise,_   
_No fault of any soul,_   
_'Twas discord crept in every heart,_   
_Through every head he strolled;_   
_The Houses fought, friend versus friend,_   
_'Til Slytherin, one morning,_   
_Got up and left old Hogwarts' halls_   
_With no plan of returning._   
_The remaining three were sad to see_   
_Their old friend go away,_   
_And nothing has been quite the same_   
_At Hogwarts since that day;_   
_Where once there stood four Houses, joined,_   
_There now were four apart:_   
_Their wounds and prejudice made them_   
_Unable to restart._   
_And now you see that Hogwarts split_   
_Is less than Hogwarts whole and knit,_   
_For threatened by internal strife,_   
_The Houses can't face fears in life._   
_A haven this school ought to be,_   
_That fosters hope and harmony,_   
_For those alone will counter evil_   
_In addition to exerting free will._   
_The House you're in is of your choice_   
_Although it's me who lends the voice,_   
_And in the end, where you belong_   
_Is in your heart, not in this song._   
_Oh, let the walls 'tween houses break_   
_When outer walls are 'bout to quake;_   
_So be you warned what's 'bout to come_   
_Your greatest strength is in your sum._   
_It's time to sort, don't get me wrong,_   
_But don't forget what I have sung_   
_As I split one group into four,_   
_Beware, before you close the door._

The room was eerily silent once the Sorting Hat was finished, everyone having been enraptured by the hat's strange song - a first, in Dean's memory. After a pause, people started clapping, but now there was a great deal of whispering, too. Dean leaned a little to his right and commented into Cas' ear,"Well, that was different."

"I wanna know," said Ron, "how a hat knows what's going on in the outside world. Where are they keeping it?

The others all shrugged, not looking too concerned about that. After all, what it had said was far more intriguing, and the five of them all felt a twinge of pride that they had already followed its advice before it was given. Though admittedly, they were only a small step toward what the hat said they needed to achieve.

The low murmur came to an abrupt halt when Professor Mosely swept her (supposedly mind-reading) eyes across the four tables, and she read off the first name. Dean's stomach growled throughout the sorting, earning half-amused, half-sympathizing glances from Cas, until finally "Zimmerman, Roy" was put in Ravenclaw and the Headmaster stood up once more.

"Let's eat!" he said, and the tables were instantly piled with food.

"Bless Chuck and short speeches," said Dean reverently before piling up his plate with chops and chowing down.

"I wonder if it's ever done that before," Tessa speculated a minute later.

Jo chewed thoughtfully, "What, the hat?"

"Oh yes," answered the ghost of Edward Carrigan, coming up through the center of the table, smoking a pipe and looking jolly as ever. "Several times in the past, when it knows a great danger is imminent."

"We've been in danger for years, though, and it hasn't said anything yet," Tessa frowned. "What makes now so important?"

He tapped his silvery nose. "I suppose that's for you to find out. It's not like we ghosts see the future."

Just as Tessa was opening her mouth again, he floated off, trailing wisps of odorless smoke. Her shoulders slumped and she took a bite of potatoes to ease the disappointment.

In the post-dementor-attack excitement, Dean had forgotten to check the staff table to see if anything had changed. It was rare that it did, but in times like these it was always possible.

Lo and behold, none other than Professor Crowley was absent. There was a new person, too, and he was sitting between that douchebag Arithmancy professor and Ellen. Dean nudged Cas with his elbow and pointed toward the faculty, saying, "Look who's missing."

Cas turned his head to examine the table as well, and made the same assessment as Dean. "Do you think..."

"I dunno, could be."

"I wonder what happened to him," Cas muttered.

Dean didn't know or care. Instead, he proclaimed, "You know what this means? No more detentions in Crowley's creepy office!"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you'll find ways to get just as much detention, Dean."

"I don't care, as long as it's not with Crowley."

"As long as what's not with Crowley?" Ron suddenly shifted his attention.

"Detention," Dean answered. "Look, he's missing and they've replaced him. No more crappy Defense teacher!"

"Well, that's good news," Jo agreed wholeheartedly. "God, I hope we get to learn some actually useful spells this term. I'm sick of Crowley's obsession with technicalities."

The others' conversation shifted to Crowley's old bad teaching habits, and continued 'til they reached dessert.

Dean couldn't decide which kinds of pie he wanted, then even after he picked his three slices, he kept eating the one kind he didn't get off Cas' plate. He had been underrating lemon meringue all this time.

To get revenge, Cas ate almost all of Dean's blackberry pie, and then they had a fork battle between their plates, which got a very pointed stink-eye from Jo. They exchanged sheepish looks then went back to eating off their own plates, as though they were back at Bobby's and it had been Ellen who raised her eyebrow.

Dean sighed, then blinked as his parting conversation with Demian and Barnes popped back into his head. Considering how much Cas had fretted over Dean for fainting and how they ate off each other's plates, maybe it wasn't quite so surprising that they'd thought he and Cas were a couple. But still, best friends could do those things, right?

He looked closely at Cas' face, maybe to glean something from its not-so-mysterious (at least not to Dean) depths. His pulse accelerated completely of its own accord as Cas' lips wrapped around the fork, and even more so when Cas turned his face to Dean, chewing on a bite of sweet, tangy pie.

There was a bit of meringue on Cas' upper lip, and Dean's first impulse was to _lick it off_ , which... _no_. That was way out of line. Dean's overstuffed stomach really wasn't meant to do cartwheels, but it was trying, meanwhile Dean blinked rapidly, willing the impulse to go away.

 _No, no, no, no, no,_ Dean chanted in his own head. _It's just weird subconscious crap 'cause of what they said. I'm... having a bad reaction. I feel sick 'cause... I'm allergic... to the gay._

It even sounded ridiculously stupid in his own head. But it had to be the thing they assumed, messing with his head.

All these comparatively reasonable thoughts were nearly drowned out by a mental chorus of, _Cas, mouth, pie, close, Cas, mouth, pie..._

He was saved from Cas' increasingly concerned eyes by the Headmaster, standing up and clearing his throat, saying, "Attention everyone. Guys? Thanks."

Chuck directed that last thanks at Ellen, who had rung a small but clear-ringing bell, silencing the students at last.

"As you may have noticed, we, ah, have a small change in staff. A-allow me to introduce our new Arithmancy professor, Duane Tanner." He gestured to the new fellow who nodded to the light applause, punctured by murmurs.

"Arithmancy?" Ron whispered, "Then who's--"

"And now teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, we have our very own... Zachariah Adler."

If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say that was a grimace on Chuck's face.

There was no question of the disgusted scowl on _Cas'_ face, and he muttered, "Merlin help us."

The sparse clapping ended and Headmaster Shurley took a deep breath to finish his announcements but the balding man decided to stand up, scraping his chair loudly and getting everyone's attention. Chuck, on the other hand, coughed and said, "Now that we're all full of delicious--"

Dean almost didn't hear what made Chuck stop mid-sentence, but then Zach cleared his throat a second time, as though they _all_ didn't already know that he was standing up expectantly.

"Yes, Professor Adler?" Chuck resigned.

"Thank you, Headmaster." His oily skin reflected the candlelight as he walked around the staff table and up to the podium, taking Chuck's place. "I'm very gracious for this position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, as well as Hogwarts' first _Bureau-appointed_ professor. As you know, we are slowly recovering from some years of struggle in our country and throughout the wizarding world, times of strife which drove us back, stunted our growth. Our enemy, it seems, has finally crept back into the shadows, and now is our chance to come back to our higher goals, raised standards, and better society. It is times like these when academic reform is most important. Hogwarts needs a fresh start, so that in the next few years our school can be producing only the best and brightest members of society, ones who can lead us to a future that is cleansed of the past. Acceptable levels of adherence to these new standards will be expected from all students in the coming months, and adjustments will need to be made. The Federal Bureau of Magic has invited me to--"

Dean quickly drowned out that nasally droning voice and turned instead to watch Cas' expressions change throughout the speech. He was obviously listening, so he could explain to Dean later what was making his eyebrows draw closer and closer together. Cas also started squinting and moving his lips, like he was trying to commit lines to memory by repeating them to himself.

Brought out of his reverie by a nearby squeaky bench, Dean realized that Cas was one of the only ones paying any close attention to Professor Adler. Most everyone else, like Dean, was either falling asleep or distracted already. They were stuffed with food and ready to fall into their beds, not sit up straight and pay rapt attention to a hideously dull speaker. Zach sounded stiff and rehearsed, on top of the fact that Dean didn't give a crap about standards and tests and how one betters oneself through study in a safe and controlled environment.

Just as Dean thought he might actually shut his eyes and rest his head for a bit, some very weak applause broke out, so he looked up and found Zach heading back to his seat. "Fucking finally," he whispered.

Chuck took the podium as soon as Zach left it and spoke, "Thanks, Professor Adler, that was, ah... quite enlightening. I'll make the rest of this quick: for first years and others who need to be reminded, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits; Mr. Devereaux, our caretaker, has kindly made a list of banned merchandise; and last but not least, get some rest! Have a good term!"

Perhaps wanting to prove himself a better public speaker than Zach was what made Chuck's final statement so much stronger than his usual addresses, but whatever the case, all the students rose to their feet and made haste to their dormitories, glad that that long delay was over.

"Cas!" Tessa shouted over the din, "we have to lead the first years!"

"Oh, yes!" he agreed, remembering. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dean," Cas turned and said with a warm smile.

Dean nodded, so tired that his stomach only fluttered weakly at Cas. "Tomorrow."

Jo and Ron also had to gather up their new Gryffindor first years, so Dean left on his own, making his sleepy way up the many staircases to the seventh floor. He finally reached the portrait, which someone opened for him, and flopped into his bed like a sack of all the potatoes he'd just eaten.

He quite forgot about the dementors, the hat's foreboding song, and Zach's apalling speech, and dreamt instead of flying with Cas, Dean sitting on the broom behind him like muggles on a motorcycle, his arms around Cas' waist and wind coursing through their hair. It was quite pleasant. If only the rest of the school year were that carefree and easy.

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Quidditch tryout notices were posted in all the common rooms. Dean was nervous, mainly because he screwed his team last year when he dove in front of a Bludger for Cas, but he still had hope. Henricksen had now graduated, and if Dean was lucky he might have a clean slate with the new captain.

Gordon Walker approached him in the Great Hall, giving Cas a slightly creepy glare but making no comment. After the Sorting Hat's song, he probably didn't want to sound like an idiot for calling out the Hufflepuff who was sitting at the Gryffindor table. Instead, he turned on Dean and said, "Hey Dean, I'm captain now, tryouts are next Friday. I'm keeping you on the team, but I want everyone there, got it?"

Dean was taken aback. "I'm... I'm on the team?"

"Duh. You and Rick and Dixon are chasing machines, so I need all of you there to find teammates who can fit into your groove. As long as you don't..." and now his eyes shifted briefly toward Cas, "... pull any more stunts, I want you back. We're gonna need a new seeker, and one beater. If you know anybody who's got some skills, bring 'em in. And in case you weren't sure, there _is_ a rule that students can only play for their _own_ house team."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Gordon was already walking away toward the Entrance Hall. He turned back to his friends, shaking his head, saying, "Of course I knew _that_."

Cas patted Dean's arm and gave him a puffy-cheeked smile, as his mouth was full of breakfast crepe.

"Thanks, Cas. I mean, I would practically sell my soul to have _you_ as Gryffindor's seeker. Man, we'd be freakin' unstoppable. Maybe when we graduate we should form our own Quidditch team and someday play in the World Cup..." his voice drifted off, running away with his imagination.

When he snapped out of it he noticed Jo staring at her plate, her fork hovering, forgotten. Then she, too, shook her head and took a finishing bite. "Gotta go," she said, "Told Lisa I'd help her before our Potions quiz."

"Oh shit, that's today," Dean swore. "Any chance you could help me too?"

Jo laughed as she packed up her bag. "You're the schmuck who didn't study this summer. Why would I help you?"

"Oh, c'mon Jo, you're my best friend, right?"

"Exactly. Make your boyfriend help you, I hear he gets 'outstanding's on all his tests."

Dean's insides itched. "Cas isn't my--"

"See ya!"

Jo waved and left Dean sitting there with his jaw flapping, wishing he could argue more. When he turned back to Cas, the boy was staring at him, chewing his food very slowly.

"What?" Dean demanded.

Cas swallowed and lifted his eyebrows. " _Do_ you need help with Potions?"

Dean sighed and put down his fork. He hadn't taken a bite since Gordon showed up, anyway. "Yeah, but it's today and I won't be ready either way. How come we got a quiz already? That's friggin' ridiculous."

"It's because our O.W.L.'s are this year. They did warn us that fifth year was the hardest."

"But a quiz? On the _first_ day? Which they had to tell us about when they gave us our booklists? This is just cruel."

Cas shrugged, which was even worse for Dean's health when Cas was wearing those baggy robes that were still too big in the shoulders. "I don't make the rules."

Dean sighed with resignation, pushing his plate away and picking up his bookbag. But just then a ragged barn owl swept down and landed in front of him, taking a bite of his abandoned bacon before it even offered the package it bore to Dean.

It continued to ignore him while he untied the parcel from its claws: a solid, rectangular object wrapped in a brown paper grocery bag from a muggle supermarket and tied with twine. Dean had a feeling he knew who sent it.

Cas leaned in curiously. "I'm surprised this just arrived, breakfast is almost over."

Indeed, the Great Hall was almost completely emptied, and Cas and Dean were the only ones left at their table. Dean's heart was racing as he ripped the wrapping open and pulled out a leather-bound book with a strap to hold it closed. He opened the journal gently; it had metal rings to hold the many tattered pages, which were inked all over with his father's handwriting and sketches, plus photographs and clippings taped in.

"What is this?" Cas whispered, eyebrows tightly knit.

Dean let out a shaky breath, running his fingers over a page with a list of dates and cities. "My dad's journal."

Cas' eyes went wide and he looked up at Dean. "He sent this to you?"

"Looks like it."

"Did he say why?"

Dean gulped and turned it over in his hands, then checked the wrapping for some kind of note. "There's nothing. He didn't--"

A scrap of paper fell to the floor when Dean tipped the book open, letting the pages fall. Cas bent down to pick it up, then held the torn piece in front of them, revealing that it bore nothing but the number '2.'

"Two what?" Cas asked.

"Beats me."

"Ahem," someone coughed directly behind them.

Both boys hastily stuffed the scrap back between the pages and shut the journal before turning around to find the looming figure of Professor Zachariah Adler standing over them.

"Aren't you going to be late to class?" he said, looking at his watch.

"Um," Dean stammered, "Yeah, we... sorry, this owl showed up late... we were about to go..."

"How curious. What, pray tell, did you recieve?"

"I ordered a journal," Cas answered quickly, "for writing notes, schoolwork. My last one... ran out of room."

The corner of Zachariah's mouth twitched upward and he blinked once. "I see. Well, you wouldn't want to be without that. Now, don't you boys have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, picking up his things and climbing off the bench. Cas stuffed the journal into his own bag to keep their cover, then they both high-tailed it out and up the grand staircase, not stopping until they were certain that they hadn't been followed.

Cas pulled Dean into a secret passageway behind a tapestry and got the journal back out so they could exchange it.

"Oh Cas," Dean sighed, running his hands over the cover, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Get in more trouble than you do already, I imagine," Cas answered far too easily.

Dean punched him in the arm, which didn't wipe the smile off Cas' face in the slightest. _Kissing might,_ came a shocking thought. Dean swallowed hard and buried it.

"You're a pain in the ass and I love you," he said instead, shoving Cas back into the main hallway so that they wouldn't be in such a small, dark enclosure anymore. Lack of oxygen was messing with Dean's brain.

Cas grinned and waved, parting in the opposite direction from where Dean needed to go. "I'll see you at lunch, Dean."

"See ya later, Cassigator," Dean waved back. When Cas was out of sight, he smacked himself in the head for using such a stupid phrase, then made his way to History of Magic.

At least being late to this class wasn't so bad, and Professor Colt didn't even notice him sneak in and sit down in the back row; he was already droning on the subject of Troll Wars.

Already lost in the lesson, Dean decided he might as well spend the whole class reading his father's journal. After all, it was given to him, he ought to study it.

The pages were filled with notes on Demons, a date and location on every encounter he had with one. He'd drawn circles around new abilities he discovered they had: scores of unfamiliar spells, possession of bodies other than their own (if they still had their own), invulnerability to deadly force. Dean felt a pit growing in his throat at the knowledge that Demons couldn't _die_.

Water that was enchanted to repel dark magic could burn them and reveal their black eyes, as John learned from an older hunter. Next to that he also drew a pageful of symbols that trapped them or limited their abilities, though he didn't explain how. It was possible that Demons had been around a lot longer than they'd known, and here Dean found it impossible to tear his eyes from the page:

_Missouri, Devil's Trap, no name yet. Keeps referencing a "ritual" of some sort, claims to have been "to Hell and back." All I can glean is that Demons have some kind of initiation ritual, a bombardment of dark magic until their souls are imbued with it and their eyes turn black. It's the source of all their powers, and I suspect soul-splitting involved - possession and immortality._

Shortly after that, the Demon escaped, turning itself into black smoke and flying away. John concluded that these once-humans were part of something even bigger than he could have imagined. The Yellow-Eyed Demon (of whom there were no reliable accounts of his age and appearance) was running some kind of long-term operation, and on the last page was written another large, slanted '2.'

Dean flipped it back and forth, willing there to be more after that, but there was nothing. There was no clue as to why John sent this prized possession to Dean, so he had to assume the purpose was to keep it safe at Hogwarts. Perhaps John was delving into something huge, and didn't want to risk losing the journal. Dean could only hope that his father wasn't already dead, and shoved that thought into the depths of his mind because it was impossible.

When class was over, Dean hastily shrunk the book to be pocket sized and tucked it safely into his robes, where it could be close to his body at all times. The last thing he wanted was for this to end up in the wrong hands.

"What made you so late?" Jo asked.

Dean whirled around at the sound of her voice, impulsively pulling his robes in tight around his chest and crossing his arms. " Oh, I... Cas got a package, and the owl showed up right when we were gonna leave the Great Hall..."

"He got a package, huh?" Jo frowned. "That's weird."

He shifted uneasily. "Anyway, it's not like Ghosty noticed me come in."

"Yeah, you're lucky we had History first thing," Ron joined in, none the wiser to Jo's suspicious glare.

Dean looked back and forth between them and asked, "Did you two switch bodies, or am I dreaming?"

Jo rolled her eyes and Dean spotted the mirth that she'd been hiding the whole time. "I got my eye on you, Winchester," she said in perfect imitation of her mother.

"Sure ya do," he laughed and led the way out of the classroom.

They and their fellow Gryffindors filed up two floors and into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, talking the whole way about their expectations for the new curriculum under Professor Adler. Dean rather wanted to call him a range of things from Professor Assler to Dickariah, but these probably wouldn't go over well.

"Did you actually listen to his speech, though?" Jo reproached.

" _Hell_ no," Dean answered. "Pretty sure Cas is the only one who could stay awake for the whole thing."

She shrugged. "I didn't exactly hang onto every word, but I heard enough to know what it meant."

"What did it mean?" Ron questioned.

"That the Bureau is interfering at Hogwarts."

Their conversation was put to a halt as they entered the classroom and had to take their seats. Dick-face was already at the chalkboard, standing next to a list written in neat cursive and titled, "Course Aims."

When everyone had found their seats and gone quiet, he cleared his throat, as though he didn't already have all their attention. "Good morning, class."

There was a low murmur of acknowledgement.

He tsked, "That won't do. When I say 'Good morning, class,' you'll respond 'Good morning, Professor Adler.' Try again? Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Professor Adler," they chorused unenthusiastically.

Zachariah blinked when he smiled. "Better. Now, I'd like to bring your attention to what I've written on the board. These three course aims will be your goals for the term, if you would please put your wands away and copy these into your notes."

With a dozen scattered sighs, the students pulled out their quills and notebooks to copy down what was written on the board.

Course Aims  
        1. To understand the theory and history of defensive magic  
        2. To learn the appropriate situations in which defensive magic should be used  
        3. To understand the practical uses of defensive magic

Dean didn't feel like this crap even deserved to be in his notebook, and he made a note to himself to tear it out later and light it on fire.

When the whole class was looking back up at Zachariah, he asked, "You all have copies of _Defensive Magical Theory,_ yes?"

They murmured in agreement, and the large yet weasle-y man puffed up with indignance.

"I'd like you all to answer either, 'Yes, Professor Adler,' or 'No, Professor Adler' when I ask you a question. _So_ , do you each have a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_?"

"Yes, Professor Adler," they chimed.

"Good. Open to the introductory chapter, _Basics for Beginners_ , and begin reading. There will be no need to talk."

There was a rustle of pages and no argument as the students followed instructions, but even after only a sentence Dean felt his eyelids drooping. He tried again, but simply couldn't concentrate on the textbook's carefully picked-out, dry, lifeless words.

Giving up, Dean glanced around the classroom and was surprised to find Jo, sitting next to him, with her book untouched and her hand straight in the air. Well, maybe not that surprised; if anyone were to question authority in _this_ subject, it would be Jo.

Zachariah was looking determinedly in the other direction, but within a few minutes the rest of the class was just as sick of reading as Dean, and eventually they all noticed Jo raising her hand. With the whole class distracted, Zachariah couldn't avoid the question any longer.

"Do you have a question related to the reading, Miss... ?"

"Harvelle," Jo answered, corner of her mouth twitching at Zachariah's flinch, "and I have a question on the class aims."

He blinked. "They're spelled out very clearly. I'm sure if you read them carefully, you'll find--"

"They don't say anything about _using_ defensive magic."

It looked like the man was trying hard to keep his face frozen on a smile. "I should hope there is no need to use such spells in this classroom."

Ron burst out, "But Demons have been close to Hogwarts before!"

"They did NOT, however," shouted Zachariah over the murmur that rose amonst the students, "manage to breach the walls, nor will they _ever_ reach the castle. You are protected by the very best witches and wizards, and you will leave the spellcasting to _them_."

Dean felt anger boil up in his chest and blurted, "Yeah, and who's gonna take their job when--"

"Students in my class raise their hands politely, Dean," Zach interrupted.

Dean shot his hand in the air and didn't wait to be acknowledged before shouting, "Aren't we supposed to fill their shoes someday? We need to know what to expect!"

He thought the professor's face was being transfigured into a tomato as the man spat, "The Bureau has decided that such material is inappropriate to students of your age and skill level. I see your previous instruction has left you far behind, and it is my job to see that your education reaches suitable standards--"

Nancy interrupted, "Does that mean--"

"Hand!"

Like Dean, she stuck her hand up and continued speaking, "Does that mean our first time casting the spells will be _in_ the exam?"

An exchange of glances and murmurs between students rippled throughout the room, and Dean could see a thick drop of sweat roll down Zachariah's forehead.

"With enough study and theoretical understanding, you will be perfectly prepared for your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, which are the prime focus of this year's curriculum."

Dean clenched his fists and fought the urge to stand up and kick his desk over. He yelled instead, "We HAVE to prepare to join the fight, not just sit around reading books like it'll do ANY good out there in the real world!"

"And I suppose you think you're going to succeed where your father couldn't?!" Zach retaliated, spit flying onto his students' shocked faces.

"Yes!" Dean shouted back without thinking. "Because there are crazy dark wizards out there, and they have a plan!"

The whole class went silent, exchanging glances, all wondering the obvious question.

Zachariah puffed up his chest. "What sort of fifteen-year-old has the resources and skills to know that which the Bureau doesn't? Let me make this perfectly clear: the so-called Demons are a disorganized--"

"But--!"

"--terrorist group. We have no reason to believe that they pose a threat to the safety of this school. Also, it is clear that they have already collapsed on themselves, as has been seen by their... sporadic nature in this last year. They are falling apart from within, and quite soon there will be nothing left. Anyone who claims that this 'Demon Army' still wields power over us will not only be proven wrong very shortly, but they will receive due punishment for inciting fear, which is no more or less than these terrorists did in the first place."

Dean, having tried to protest several more times, suddenly went quiet. Did that mean... _he_ would be given the same punishment as the _Demons_ , having supposedly committed the same crime? What kind of fucked up world was in this dick's head?

Zach's now-cold voice spat, "There will not be another utterance from your mouth for the rest of this class. Arrogance, which you clearly inherit from your father, will not be tolerated."

Dean scoffed, " _I'm_ arrogant?"

At the look on Zach's face, he immediately regretted it.

"Dean, Dean," the man shook his head and held up his wand. Dean thought he might get hexed, but the next moment, Zach produced a small note on parchment. "You'll collect your things and take this to Professor Singer, immediately. He is your head of house, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured.

"Good. I'll see you tonight at eight o'clock."

A look from Jo told him not to protest even further, so Dean took the note and made haste toward his exit. If Dickface thought one detention and being kicked out of class worked as _punishment_ for Dean, he clearly didn't know a thing about him, though... there was the fact that he still had to talk to Bobby.

The man's classes were nearly always after lunch, which was next on their schedule, so Dean was pretty confident Bobby would still be in his office. Lo and behold, when Dean rapped on the door a gruff voice replied, "Come in."

"Hey, Bobby. I mean Professo--"

He held up a hand. "It's okay, Dean. What's up?"

Dean hesitated, swallowing. "Professor Adler told me to give you this note," he finally spoke, holding out the parchment.

Bobby unrolled it and scanned it, quickly looking back up at Dean with a very different expression than before.

Dean swallowed again. "Uh..."

"You caused a scene?" the man questioned, "What were you thinkin', boy?"

"But--"

"No buts. Professor Adler is the Bureau's hand-hold in the school, and if he whiffs you stirrin' up trouble, it'll be worse than this week of detention he gave you--"

"A week?!"

"Yeah, Dean, a week. I've been working with this guy for twenty years, it's not like I don't know he can be an asshole. That doesn't give you an excuse to smart-mouth him and bring attention to yourself in the meantime! Especially 'cause _now_ the Bureau's made him an asshole with power. You start talkin' about Demons and the war, you'll bring attention to the Order, too. The last thing the Bureau needs is more ways to ridicule anyone who thinks this war still needs fighting."

"What the hell's wrong with them?! I thought everyone knew about the threat we're facing here!"

"Have you even been _lookin'_ at the papers? All summer's been nothin' but headlines about crackpots and false demon alarms. They're trying to _prove_ that there's nothing left to fear. Only reason it's not workin' is they haven't given one person the blame for everything yet. All they need is someone to jump up and take it by, oh, say, stirring up the whole school and claiming to have information on the Demons' plans."

Dean looked at his toes, chewing his tongue.

"Don't get on Zachariah's bad side, Dean, or you'll have the whole Bureau on your back. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And for Merlin's sake, don't keep gettin' detention. You're not gonna keep up with your schoolwork this year if you do. That's my advice as your official guardian _and_ as your teacher."

Dean nodded and sighed, "I know... fifth year, hard work, O.W.L.s, I capiche."

"This isn't a joke, Dean, you gotta--"

"I know, I know! I'll study hard! My future is at stake, I know."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shooed Dean away, who sighed again and slumped back out.

They all acted like he didn't already _know_ this crap, as if they hadn't been shoving it down his throat this whole time. At least, the part about fifth year. The parts about the Bureau and the Demons were all new.

Why hadn't anyone told him? How had that not been brought up, if it was front page news every day? For a summer surrounded by so many people, he sure had been out of the loop. Still was, really. Maybe that was the real reason his dad sent his journal: because Dean didn't know anything and needed it spelled out for him.

No, that wasn't it. The journal was important. Maybe John didn't want Dean to get sucked into the lies about the Demons being a dead threat. But how could anyone believe that - there was a Dementor attack at the school! Things like that didn't just _happen_.

Being nearly lunch now anyway, Dean headed down to the Great Hall where he could sit and read the journal some more, while the room was still empty except for some sixth and seventh years who had the class period off.

It didn't last long, though, since the lunchtime flood poured in only ten minutes later, and with them a quietly fuming Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

"What's this I heard about you getting detention this week?"

Dean put the journal away and looked up at Gordon with a frown. "What's it matter to you?"

"Tryouts," he said in a controlled, calm voice, "This Friday. What were you thinkin', man? C'mon, I thought the team came first."

"I-I didn't mean to get detention! How was I supposed to know what Adler was gonna do?"

"It might've helped if you kept your trap shut, Winchester. That's all it takes. Ask Adler to let you off on Friday. Have detention Saturday instead, I don't care, just _be there_ for tryouts. Don't make me kick you off the team - you know I don't wanna do that."

He stalked away before Dean could utter another word of protest, which would have been cut short anyway by Cas sitting down next to him with that concerned look on his face, taking up Dean's entire area of vision.

"Dean, are you alright?"

He shook his head and turned away from Cas, trying to focus on something else while still answering, "Yeah, of course I'm alright! I got detention, not a spanking."

Dean heard Cas sigh, and knew that his shoulders were slumping. The last thing he wanted was a punch to the gut at the look on Cas' face, so he looked around the Great Hall to distract himself.

There was Bela, back to her normal self, mocking him from afar. At least for the latter half of last year, she hadn't bothered him too much, but the summer break clearly put her right back where she started. Her friends, Guy and Gertrude, were no less nasty in their facial expressions, and they laughed when Bela imitated Dean fainting again.

It didn't stop with her - once the tables filled up with students and the news had a few minutes to travel around, it seemed the entire Great Hall talked about nothing but Dean's outburst in Defense Against the Dark Arts for the entire lunch period. For all his reputation as an attention-lover, Dean was really hating this.

As the night approached, Dean's dread only grew stronger and stronger, until he was standing in front of Zachariah's office at a minute to eight, shaking.

 _Pull yourself together_ , he hissed internally. _Don't let the douchebag get to you._

With a deep breath, he stepped inside.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Zach tsked as the handle clicked and the door swung in. Dean stood there on the threshold, bag hanging off his shoulder, his face as blank as he could make it. Zachariah stared back coldly for a moment, then gestured to the small desk set up next to his own. "Have a seat."

Dean still didn't speak as he set his load down next to his chair and scooted up to the little wooden table, staring down at the blank parchment neatly laid down on top. So, it'd be lines. That wasn't so bad. It was boring and stupid and a waste of time, but it wasn't torture.

Professor Adler cleared his throat, smiled toothily when Dean looked up in response, then stood up and stepped behind Dean's chair to look over his shoulder, probably trying to intimidate him. Even if it worked, Dean wouldn't show it.

"You're awfully quiet. Run out of idiotic claims?"

Dean gritted his teeth. He wouldn't give Zach the satisfaction.

"Good. Let's hope today's lesson prevents any further outbursts or... misbehavior." The professor came around to the front of his own desk and leaned on the edge of it, crossing his arms and smirking. "Ready to begin?"

"What are my lines?" Dean asked, forcing his voice to be flat.

"You're going to write 'I must not tell lies.'" Dean reached for his bag to get out his quill, but Zachariah stopped him. "Ah, you won't be needing that." He reached behind him for a quill with a long, white feather that was lying on his own desk and said, "You'll be writing with this instead."

Dean took it without question or comment, but he felt his stomach drop with anticipation. He looked down at his paper, went to dip his quill, then realized there was nothing to dip it in.

"What about ink?"

"Oh, you won't need any." Zach was still smiling and it had long since started to creep Dean out.

He gulped and held the quill over the paper, taking a deep breath and writing, _I must not tell lies._ The red ink appeared on its own. He winced as he finished and felt a scratching on the back of his hand, then it quickly turned to searing pain as he watched the same letters he'd just written appear on his hand and heal over within a few seconds, leaving behind a sharp after-sting.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" the professor remarked, peering down his nose.

Dean clamped his teeth shut and bent over the page to write the next line, ignoring Zach's chuckle as the man sauntered back to his seat.

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

Most of an hour passed and the back of his hand was now bright red, though no cuts or scratchmarks could be seen after each healing. Dean was about to put the quill down for yet another line when Zachariah cleared his throat, making Dean freeze.

"Let's see how well you're learning, shall we?"

He reached out for Dean's hand and examined it, touching the sensitive skin and seeming nonplussed when Dean successfully willed himself not to flinch. Zach would never see Dean's pain, not as long as he could help it.

"That will be all for today. Perhaps by the end of the week it will have... sunk in."

The end of the week... it seemed so far away now. He had four more nights of these 'lessons' to put up with.

Oh wait... the end of the week, why was that important? Memories of both breakfast and lunch swam before him and he suddenly remembered something, blurting out, "This Friday, there's Quidditch tryouts and Gordon needs me to be there, so can we postpone the last--"

He was cut off by a burst of laughter from Zachariah. "Oh, I don't think so. In fact, I'm glad I'm keeping you from your extracurriculars. Your record shows that detention alone seems to be somewhat... ineffective for you."

Dean gulped, using all his willpower to shove his rage back down and stay silent. As much as he wanted to argue, Gordon was going to have to deal with Dean's absence at tryouts. _He'll probably kill me for this, if Zach doesn't kill me first._

"Eight o'clock again tomorrow, don't forget."

Dean nodded, "Yes, Professor Adler." Picking up his bag, he hurried out of the office and up to the Base, hoping he'd catch his friends before everyone had to go to their separate common rooms.

He was too late, which shouldn't have been as devastating as it felt. He found himself being especially upset that he hadn't said goodnight to Cas for the first time in months, but there was no time to dwell on it. If his friends were already gone, then it was definitely time for him to get his ass to the Gryffindor common room before he got into even more trouble.

Jo and Ron were lounging half-asleep on the comfy chairs when he arrived, and he came over to do the same.

"How was detention?" Jo asked, yawning.

Dean plopped down onto the center couch. "It was fine, yeah. Just lines."

"We got our Potions essays done while you were gone," Ron sniffed. "And some of the Transfiguration questions. There's still Charms practice and readings in just about... everything. This is some kind of conspiracy," he pointed his finger half-heartedly at nothing in particular, "to fail us."

"It's only nine o'clock, you guys," Dean pointed out, though he himself yawned loudly just then.

Jo scoffed, "Yeah, and we're still exhausted. This first day was killer."

There was a pause as they all silently agreed and sunk a little further into the cushions.

"Maybe we should get in our beds before we fall asleep," Jo mumbled.

"Good idea," Ron concurred, hair falling in his face. "We're prefects, we have to set a good example."

Dean rolled his eyes and got up, heading to the boys' dormitories. He was exhausted too, and his hand was cramped, so the last thing he wanted to do right now was homework. Anyway, it was just the end of the first day, he could slack off just this once.

The closer he got to sleep, the more he regretted his decision and dreaded the year to come, but it was too late now. He was already drifting off, dreaming about having to play Quidditch naked, then being taken off the pitch by Zachariah and locked up in the dungeons. It was so realistic that he woke up in the early morning in a cold sweat, hoping for the life of him that it wouldn't come true.

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was pretty sure he failed two of the three quizzes he had the next day, but there was nothing he could do about his growing workload because once again, he had detention with Professor Adler that night.

The same quill dug the same words into his hand for one hour, until Zachariah's ugly, grinning face said he was free to go.

"Eight o'clock tomorrow, don't forget," he repeated, as though Dean needed reminding.

 _Two down, three to go,_ he chanted to himself on his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He didn't bother trying to stop by the Base this time, knowing it would be empty by now. But this time, when he stepped through the portraithole, he avoided Jo and Ron's yawning faces, instead taking a spot at the table and plowing out his Potions essay, Transfiguration questions, and readings for DADA and Care of Magical Creatures. It was two in the morning by the time he finally dragged himself to bed, and dreaded another day to come.

By Thursday, Dean had purple shadows under his eyes and was behind in all of his classes, and the only time he felt truly awake was in detention, getting his skin carved out. Lack of sleep made the pain sharper, and he was biting his tongue to keep from crying out, which he absolutely refused to do in front of Professor Dick-face. After being released this time, he stopped in the bathroom to run cold water over the red scratch-marks that no longer healed over completely.

He walked back out, covering the back of his hand with the sleeve of his robe, then ran head-first into Jo, coming out of the girls' bathroom next door.

"Wha--Jo? What're you doing here?" he asked, sounding more accusing than he intended.

"I'm..." her voice drifted off, her gaze caught on Dean's hand.

"And why do you have a broom?" Dean demanded, pulling his sleeve further down.

Jo looked him in the eye, shifting her stance. "I'll spill if you spill."

He shuffled his feet and hitched his bag higher on his shoulder, but eventually gave in under her piercing glare. With a sigh, he let go of his sleeve and held the back of his hand up for her to see.

" _Just lines?_ " she fumed. "That's what you said, it's just _lines!_ He's fucking _torturing_ you!"

Dean hissed, "This is exactly why I didn't tell any of you about it. Now what's _your_ story?"

She scratched her head. "I, uh... ever since I overheard Gordon saying you guys needed a new beater..."

Dean's eyes went wide and Jo started to shrink away, but he snatched her into a hug first. "Dude, you'll be the best!"

She laughed with relief and shoved Dean away, saying, "Thanks, but I dunno if I'll make the team yet. I'm nervous and tryouts are tomorrow."

" _I_ think you're gonna do great--"

"You haven't even seen me play before!"

"But I've seen you fly a little! C'mon, admit it, you're not bad."

"Okay, but 'not bad' isn't the same as 'good.'"

"Whatever, I believe in you," he insisted.

"Promise you won't tell anyone? Ron and Tessa are bound to laugh..."

Dean shrugged. "Okay, fine, I won't tell. But only if you don't tell anyone about this." He gestured with his scarred hand.

"Dean, that's physical abuse, you _have_ to tell people! Tell the nurse or the Headmaster or _someone_!"

"I won't give Dickface the satisfaction."

"That's not being tough, that's being stupid."

"Pinkie swear," Dean persisted, holding out his smallest finger at hand-shaking level.

Jo rolled her eyes, but linked her pinkie with his all the same. "Fine. Pinkie swear."

They walked back to the common room together and decided after just one hour of homework that it was time to call it a night. There was only one more day of classes before the weekend - they'd have time to catch up then.

~~~

At last, Dean sat down at that desk in Zach's office for the last time. If he scooted his chair just slightly to the left, he could see the distant Quidditch pitch through the small window, and maybe he could catch a glimpse of the tryouts that he was missing.

Earlier that week, when Gordon got the news that Dean had no choice but to be absent, all he said was, "Fine." So, Dean was still a bit scared that these last moments were the end of his Quidditch career.

He was too far away to tell who was who, and he was only able to look up every once in a while, but he saw what must've been Olivia saving every goal in Chaser tryouts - fuck, maybe Gordon _was_ replacing him. He glanced up a while later and saw someone with a club (crossing his fingers that it was Jo) give a mean swing, sending a Bludger across the pitch. However, after a half hour, the sun set below the trees and made it too dark for Dean to see outside at all.

Even from afar, Quidditch had provided a much-appreciated distraction on which his thoughts were able to dwell for the rest of detention, taking his mind off the pain. When the hour was up, Zachariah cleared his throat and handed Dean a handkerchief.

Dean stared at Zach's offer, puzzled by it, until the professor announced, "You're bleeding on your robes."

He looked down at his hand and indeed, a stream was running from the bottom of the _s_ in _lies_ all the way to the edge of his sleeve. He took the handkerchief and wrapped it tightly to stop the blood, then stood up and picked up his bookbag. "May I be excused?"

"Just one moment," Zachariah stopped him. "I would like your word that there will be no more outbursts or ridiculous claims in my classroom. You may have been brainwashed to believe that the Demons still pose a threat, but I'd rather you not spread it to my students."

Dean's jaw flapped once, and he started, "I'm not--!" But, his brain kicked in just in time to keep him from spouting more utterly useless arguments. _This is fucking ridiculous, I can't believe I have to do this._ "Yes, Professor."

"Good," he smiled and clapped his hands together, as if that had just settled everything. "I'll see you in class next week, Dean."

He scurried out before his inner rage could voice itself and get him into more trouble, following Bobby's advice. After all, he _just_ finished the last detention, it would be a terrible twist of fate if he got more now.

Not stopping until he was in his dormitory, he focused on the nice, warm bed that was waiting for him. Taking off his shoes and robes felt like he was finally shaking off Zachariah's comments on Dean's apparent 'brainwashing.' That douchewad would never get under Dean's skin, if he had any say in the matter.

How on earth could the Bureau think that the Demons weren't a threat? Lying in bed, Dean's mind drifted to all the awful things they'd done, the loved ones they'd killed, and he pulled out his dad's journal just to run his hand over the cover.

Maybe John would know the answer, why the Bureau was trying to convince everyone that the fight was over. If they succeeded in that, then the Demons could catch everyone off-guard some time later, so they probably had something to do with it.

Dean's eyes were drooping, and the covers around him were getting warmer and cozier by the second. Even his snowballing worry about the state of the world couldn't keep him from much-needed sleep, and soon it drifted over him like a velvety wave.

~~~

He raced down the gravel road, flying over it so quickly that the trees on either side were a blur, focusing only on the darkness ahead. Suddenly, he stopped and looked down at his feet, right in front of which ran an iron railroad track which he seemed unable to cross.

His hand reached out toward the empty field on the other side, itching to grasp at something that was further down the road, out of sight. His fingers stretched, but the closer he got, the more it felt like moving through molasses, until he started to struggle and push and whine that he couldn't just _glimpse_ what was at the end.

Sam's writhing was twisting up the sheets, and his own movements woke him up just as his toe managed to brush the iron track.

Gasping, he sat up, then punched his fist against the mattress.

He didn't know why he wanted to see the end of the path so badly, when it was a place that probably didn't even exist. It was just a dream, Sam reminded himself, even if the thought didn't abate his desire.

If only he could see what was there, see what it meant. Then he could finally quit wondering and actually sleep at night. Maybe that was too much to hope for.

Max shifted on the next bed over, reminding Sam that it was still the middle of the night and maybe he should try to go back to sleep. He lay back down, but his eyes wouldn't close, so he ended up staring at the shadows in the folds of his four-poster's curtain, waiting for the hours to pass.

~~~

The wind rattled the windowpanes, waking Dean up in the early morning from a (finally) peaceful slumber. He didn't know how late his dorm-mates had been up last night, but they were clearly not going to wake up any time soon by the sound of Ron's snoring.

He put on his robes and tiptoed out, carrying his shoes, then sat down at the table in the common room with a scrap of parchment and a quill, biting the tip of his tongue. His bandaged hand was throbbing fiercly, but Dean _needed_ to write this while it was all on his mind, so he began:

_Dear Dad,_

_Thanks for the book you sent, I alreaddy read the whole thing. Hope your doing okay, things here are okay too, but if you can talk sometime that would be great. I miss you!_

_Love,_

_D._

It wasn't much, but at least it was letting his dad know that he needed to talk. He read it several times, trying to imagine what a Bureau person would see if they were to intercept this, and couldn't find any way that this would sound suspicious.

Rolling up the parchment and tying it off, Dean stepped out of the portrait and jogged up to the owlery, enjoying the brisk, gusty wind, signalling the oncoming autumn. He coaxed an owl down from the rafters and tied the letter to its leg, pleading with it, "Find John Winchester. I need to know that he's okay."

The bird flapped its wings and dove out the window, picking up an updraft and soaring east, then suddenly the entire owlery was rustling and hooting softly. Dean turned to look what all the fuss was about, just in time to see Cas exclaim, "Dean!"

His pulse went up a notch as Cas adjusted his untidy robes and took off his scarf, though he didn't look any less unkempt since his hair proved that he had just rolled out of bed. There were shadows under his eyes too, confirming Dean's assumption that Cas had done _all_ of his homework this last week.

"Hey Cas, what brings you here on this fine morning?" Dean asked with a grin, leaning against the windowsill and tucking his right hand behind his back.

"I always check on the owls at sunrise," he answered, as plainly as though he'd said, "I always do my homework."

"Of course you do, Cas," Dean sighed, fighting the urge to ruffle his bed-head.

"And you?" Cas asked. "I've never seen you awake at this hour."

"Shut up, I went to bed early last night."

"Ah, yes, your last detention. How did that go?"

"Oh, it was fine," Dean deflected with a shrug - Cas' reaction to Zachariah's discipline methods was the one he feared the most.

The boy did eye him suspiciously, but went on, "You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I did! I said it was--"

"About why you're up," Cas corrected, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

"... Right. Yeah, I was sending a letter to my dad, about the journal, y'know."

Cas frowned in thought and nodded slowly. Then his expression jumped back to suspicious and he asked, "What's in your hand?"

"What?" Dean clenched his fingers, digging into the bandage that he'd been hiding behind his back - his sleeves were getting too goddamn short.

" _Dean._ " Cas stepped closer. "Let me see."

Dean held his other hand out, palm facing Cas, hoping to placate him. "Promise you won't freak out, Cas, you--"

"Freak out?" Cas echoed with his brows drawn together, "Dean, I'm just asking--"

"Just... please, Cas, I haven't said anything 'cause I didn't want you to freak out, which is exactly what you're doing--"

"You haven't even shown me what you're hiding, Dean!" Cas protested, taking another step and reaching behind Dean for his wrist, using his strong grip to pull Dean's arm around and hold his bandaged hand in front of his face. Cas' grip became gentler and his voice much quiter as he asked, "What is this?"

"Zachariah," Dean spat, taking his hand back... or trying, anyway.

Cas somehow managed to still be gentle, but firm, as he laid Dean's hand flat in front of him and unwrapped the cloth strip with determination. The words _'I must not tell lies'_ stood out clearly now in red welts, and Dean thought he saw tears welling up in Cas' eyes.

"Dude, I'm fine," he reassured.

Cas scoffed, "He did this to you?"

"Kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a quill that writes with blood. I was writing lines and it would take the ink out of... goddammit, Cas, I'm okay. It's just a scratch, c'mon--"

"How is _this_ a scratch? He's carving words into your skin - forcing you to do it to yourself, apparently, and you say it's fine?!"

"Yeah! Your dad's the one who told me not to bring attention to myself, and anyway I won't let Zach get the best of me. If I go around complaining, then I'm just--"

" _Dean_. You _aren't_ complaining. Letting me know isn't complaining, and I could've helped you! Helped take care of this."

"Yeah, how would you do that?"

Cas re-wrapped the bandage - much more neatly and efficiently than Dean had done himself - and bit his lip. Dean bit his lip, too, because the light brushing of Cas' fingers was making his stomach do fucking somersaults and Dean just wanted it to stop. It was making being around Cas almost unbearable.

"Dean," Cas sighed, "You can be quite stupid sometimes."

"Right back atcha."

"Don't--Dean, you--never mind. I can tend to the owls later, right now this is more important." He swallowed, and Dean watched his Adam's apple bounce down then back up.

"Aw shucks, man--"

"I'll see you at breakfast, I need to go down to the grounds."

"What?" _That was a sudden U-turn._ "Oh, okay."

Cas pressed his lips together in a sad half-smile, finally letting Dean's hand slip out of his fingers and dashing out the door and down the staircase.

Dean stared after him, bewildered by his sudden exit, just after he was making a lot of talk about taking care of Dean. His heart sank a tiny bit, all of its own accord - cause really, it's not like Dean was that sad about Cas simply leaving the room, he'd see the guy at breakfast, like he said.

Of course, his heart pounded in his ears all the same. What was all this crap, was Dean becoming a twelve-year-old girl? He could handle himself, he could bandage his own wounds, and he could tell and not tell Cas whatever he wanted.

But his stupid _face_... that hurt look when he'd seen the marks, like his heart was shattered. Dean wanted to punch him and hug him all at once.

He heard another set of feet coming up the steps and made himself look busy, hoping Cas hadn't come back to smack Dean for being such an idiot and keeping secrets.

He sighed when it was only Lisa, waving to her and saying, "Hey, what's up?"

"Nice morning, huh?" she smiled back. "Good day for flying?"

"A little windy, but yeah." He shrugged, heading toward the door.

"Um, Dean?"

He stopped, wishing he didn't have to. "Hmm?"

"I thought you were right, speaking up against Professor Adler. He's an asshole."

Dean laughed pathetically, "Tell me about it."

"Um... see you around," she waved.

"Yeah," he waved back and left. That was starting to feel a little weird... maybe she was coming on to him...

 _Whatever_ , he thought and made his way down to the Great Hall to meet his friends. Hopefully they wouldn't get all teary-eyed and gentle when they found out about his new scar.

"That _dick!_ " Ron yelled when Dean opened up about Zachariah's detentions.

The ghost of a young woman passed by and gave him a scowl, at which Ron shrank into his goblet of apple juice as best he could.

"I mean..." he whispered, " _That dick_. How _dare_ he."

"I told you, Dean, you need to report this. There has to be _some_ way to get this guy fired, and maybe this is it." Jo bit off the green bean on her fork and chewed with one eyebrow raised at Dean, emphasizing her point.

He went on eating mashed potatoes and shrugged. "If the Bureau wants him to be Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that badly, y'know, one whiny student isn't gonna make 'em hand him the purple slip."

"So we _all_ have to stand up against him!"

"Sure, get in line, everyone wants this new tattoo, it's super popular..."

"WOAH, Winchester, you got a tattoo?"

"When?"

"Did you faint?"

Dean sighed, not all that surprised by the sudden arrival of Bela and the gang. They were exchanging proud grins when Dean turned to look up at the three of them and said, "No, but I bet you would if you were watching."

"Oh Dean, still lacking that sharp wit, aren't you?" Bela teased, even though he'd made a perfectly good retort. "That's probably why you lost that argument with Professor Adler, though that could also be because your dad's a raving lunatic."

Jo jumped in, "You actually _believe_ all that crap in the papers?"

"Oh no, the Demons are out there, biding their time. The thing is, no one's stopping them. Especially not John Winchester." Guy and Gertrude sneered, enjoying every word that dripped out of Bela's mouth. Sure, she'd been popular amongst Slytherins before, but whatever she'd recently done to earn the respect of a special few was definitely not pleasant.

Dean opened his mouth to spit back some choice words, but was stopped by an imposing figure hovering behind Bela and threatening in a low voice, "Excuse me, that's my team you're harassing."

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Gordon. Bela narrowed her eyes at Dean for a moment before swiveling around, cocking her head, smiling, and simpering, "Oh, I'm sorry. You can have them back now."

"Please and thank you," Gordon nodded, face never shifting from its ever-serious expression, glaring after them as they left.

Dean sighed, "Man, thanks--"

"It's cool. I'm here to say you're on the team but on probation - means don't miss a single practice or you're out. Means you can't get any more detention, either."

Dean gulped. "Understood."

Gordon tilted his head to Jo and continued, "Harvelle, you're in. Lisa Braeden is the new backup chaser, _just in case_." He glared again at Dean. "As for seeker, I didn't have much choice, half of 'em couldn't even fly, and the only one who passed halfway was some second year named Garth Fitzgerald. Team needs a lot of work this year, so be prepared. No more detention, Dean."

"Yeah, I got it."

Jo seemed to be blushing as she said, "Thanks."

"Meet on the pitch today at two," Gordon finished, walking away. He either didn't notice or didn't acknowledge the redness in Jo's cheeks, which she hid by looking down and shoveling pancakes in her mouth as soon as he was gone.

"What's gotten into _you_?" Ron asked, looking at Jo like she'd turned into a total stranger.

She looked up, at which Dean gave her a questioning expression as well, and swallowed. "Well, I... look, I didn't think I did that well in tryouts, to be honest..."

"But you still made the team!" Dean cried, maybe a little too loud. He brought his voice back down, "Hey, if you were good enough for Gordon, you're good enough for me, uh... That came out wrong."

Ron glared at him, then took over. "Idiot's trying to say you obviously did great, or else Gordon would've said something."

Dean scoffed, "Thanks, Ronald."

"No problem, Dean."

"Guys..." Jo sighed, "thanks for trying."

She went back to eating her breakfast, as did Ron and Dean. Tessa soon approached and sat down, congratulating Jo for making the Quidditch team when Ron announced the news. Dean slumped, chewing his bacon slowly and wondering why Cas wasn't with Tessa. Usually, they arrived at the same time, but this was clearly an unusual morning for Cas. He'd been acting weird in the owlery, too.

"Have you seen Cas?" he asked Tessa without realizing he was cutting her off mid-sentence until it was too late.

"--ich is just stupid--what? Oh, Cas? I haven't seen him yet. He probably slept in."

"Nope. He was in the owlery this morning, and I ran into him but then he said he had to go do something on the grounds..."

"That's... strange." Tessa frowned. "He didn't say what it was?"

Dean shrugged.

The others exchanged glances, which Dean noticed them doing a lot lately. But then they went back to their conversation about something or other and left Dean to his worries.

He fiddled with the rest of the bacon on his plate and didn't touch a single piece of it to his mouth for a good twenty minutes, spending the whole time mentally listing all the ways something bad could've happened to Cas in the time since he last saw him. He knew it was a tad irrational, but that didn't slow his mind down one bit. So, it seemed, Dean could neither be in a room _with_ Cas, nor in a room _without_ him. Either way he was a nervous wreck. _It must just be me, then_ , he thought.

Frustrated with himself and no less anxious, Dean headed back to his dormitory rather than hang about the castle with his friends until two. The common room was empty since everyone was now at breakfast, save for the early risers who were most likely in the library by now, with the exception of Dean and supposedly Cas. If he just knew what that troublesome Hufflepuff was up to, he wouldn't have so much room for his imagination to run wild.

Cas could be in the Forbidden Forest, getting trampled by centaurs, or he could've been looking for something in the lake and gotten dragged down by wiley mermaids. Or... mermen, since they were more Cas' type.

 _If you're so worried, why don't you just go look for him and talk to him and find out what the hell he meant in the Owlery before he ran off?_ thought Dean's very tiny, logical voice inside his head.

_Cause then he'd know I was worried and that would seem needy but I'm not needy. That's Sam's job to be needy. I'm just... I'm..._

_Yeah, you're needy._

_Son of a bitch._

Dean, half-undressed, flopped onto his bed and stared at the velvet curtain hanging over his head. Cas' face swam in front of him, leaning over him with one of those melty smiles, but Dean blinked it away. Dean wasn't... at least he didn't think...

Nah, that was crazy talk. He scratched his chest through the fabric of his undershirt, then reached down toward his boxers and slid his fingers under the waistband. He had to get his mind off everything _somehow_ , and get his head in the game before Quidditch practice. This was the only way he could think to do it at this point.

He worked himself up with long strokes and twists of his wrist, then switched to short and fast ones to finish off quickly, biting his lip and groaning as quietly as he could when he came in short bursts. With a sigh, he let his head roll to the side and shut his eyes, wiping his hand on the sheets because he didn't care - they got magically cleaned by house elves anyway.

Apparently he dozed off, because when he opened his eyes again it was only half an hour until two o'clock and Rick was there, going through his own dresser and muttering to himself.

Dean sat up and found some pants to put on, asking, "What's up, man?"

"I, uh... can't find my lucky... it's for Quidditch and they're lucky."

"Oh... kay. Lucky what?"

"Lucky!" he shouted, throwing most of the contents of the second highest drawer over his shoulders.

Dean shrugged and put his robes back on, ignoring Rick's frantic rummaging. A minute later, Dean opened the door that led downstairs, paused, and asked, "You coming?"

With a sigh, the boy gave up and shrugged, "Yeah, I'll live without."

They spent the walk down to the pitch talking casually about the changes to the team, and Rick seemed surprised about Jo. Dean wondered if she really wasn't that great in tryouts, then why did Gordon let her on the team? Either the other students trying out had been even worse, or Gordon picked her for some other reason, which Dean didn't really want to contemplate. Anyway, this was Jo, who was generally pretty talented, right? No way anyone as cool as her could suck at Quidditch.

It was still cool and windy outside when all the players were dressed and it was time for practice to start, and some large clouds were heading in over the lake. For some reason, a rather large crowd was also heading into the Quidditch pitch, all of them non-Gryffindors.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Dixon, Gryffindor's now seventh-year chaser, asked.

Gordon looked up at the stands where the other students were getting seated, then back to his team. "Forget about them. Focus on the game. It's our first practice and we got two... three new players, so we should get a feel for how we all play together."

Dean glanced up, and just then a group of Slytherins led by Bela all pretended to faint. He gritted his teeth and looked back at his captain.

"Everyone meet Jo, our new beater, Lisa, backup chaser, and this is our seeker, Garth."

"Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth," the boy announced, saluting and looking straight ahead. Everyone's eyebrows went up, mainly because that military stance looked ridiculous on a measly 50-pound kid.

Gordon cleared his throat and moved on to instructions. The crowd was obviously distracting him, despite his commands to the team to ignore it; he kept blinking while he barked orders for Dixon to guard the goal posts opposite Olivia, leaving Rick and Dean to be chasers, one on each team; Lisa was to watch them in action for now. Gordon and Jo, the two beaters, would also split up, which left Garth to just go for the snitch and ignore everything else.

The second-year was scrawniest thing Dean had ever seen, which was good for a seeker, but he wobbled quite a bit as his broom left the ground. Dean crossed his fingers that this kid knew how to steer, then soared up to face off Rick in the tossing of the Quaffle.

Jo was flexing her arm and swinging the bat, either trying to get a feel for it or shake it out of her own hand, Dean couldn't tell. Gordon had put her on Rick's team, probably because Jo was the last person who would ever go easy on Dean. They also had Olivia, the best keeper ever to grace Hogwarts' halls, so Dean was pretty sure that he and Gordon and Dixon would lose - not that it mattered, cause they were all one team, but... healthy competition was good, right?

Dean would blame it on the crowd (some of whom were putting on the hoods of their robes and pretending to be dementors), but Rick grabbed the Quaffle first when Gordon tossed it between them. After that, their captain loosed a Bludger on the field and all hell broke loose.

Dean went after Rick, trying to knock the ball out of his hands. The Bludger went for Jo, who managed to whack it so hard that her bat made a cracking sound, but unfortunately she didn't really aim it any particular way. It wailed right past Garth's ear, and he was unbalanced enough already. He tipped upside down and hung from his broom like a sloth, buffeted by the strong winds and in no position to look for the snitch. The Bludger, having gone outside the stands, turned itself around and came flying back into the pitch from behind the goal posts that Olivia was guarding. She didn't see or hear it coming until the last second, so she turned halfway to see what it was then got pummeled in the ribcage and knocked off her broom. Dean had just managed to get the ball from Rick and turned to take it down to the other side of the pitch only to find Olivia falling fifty feet.

He pulled out his wand and slowed her down as much as he could, but she still landed in the grass with a loud _thump_. That was when Gordon finally blew the whistle.

Dixon had to help Garth back on his broom so the team could meet back on the ground, looking dejected. It had taken about twenty seconds for everything to fall apart.

Running over to the base of the goal posts, Dean knelt down to help Olivia. She groaned in pain, which was good because it meant she was breathing and conscious, but she couldn't sit up and several of her ribs were probably broken.

Dean watched Gordon storm up to Garth in the center of the pitch and start yelling about how to 'fly properly.' He didn't even shoot a glaring eye at Jo, though by the way she was staring at the ground and digging her nails into her broomstick, she was probably beating herself up enough. Dean made the mistake of looking up at the stands where everyone was holding up a sign displaying the number '0' except for Bela, who was standing up with a gleeful, evil grin, and a sign that read '10.'

"Whoohooo!" he heard her cheer over everyone else. The stands weren't quite as full as they would be for a normal match, so it wasn't as easy for her to be drowned out. "Quite a show! Do it again!"

"Can I hex her?" Dean asked, not realizing he'd said it aloud.

"You've had enough detention... for one week... Winchester," Olivia rasped between shallow breaths.

He would've laughed or jibed back, but her condition couldn't get much worse. "Fuck, we need to get you to the hospital wing."

"Winchester!"

Now Gordon was fuming directly toward _him_ , which was completely unfair. He hadn't even done anything stupid this time.

"Get this crowd out of here!" the captain shouted.

"What? I didn't even--"

"Isn't that your ex up there?" Gordon's voice got quieter now that he was close up and in his face, which was a lot more frightening. "You're the one they're taunting, so _get them out of my Quidditch pitch_."

"First, shouldn't we get Olivia to the infirmary?"

Gordon gritted his teeth but spoke calmly, "I will not have my first practice be utterly useless. You get them out of here, and we can resume as planned."

"Woah man, but--"

"No buts."

Dean wanted to punch the guy - couldn't he see Olivia was badly hurt? And how was he supposed to singlehandedly boot fifty students from the stands?

There was a clatter a dozen feet away, and Dean saw Jo's slightly-splintered club tumble between wooden beams then hit the grass under the stands. She'd thrown it twenty yards out of sheer anger. It was probably stupid to put a dangerous weapon back in Jo's hands, but Dean was always coming up with stupid ideas, and he went to go pick it up.

The Bludger was slowly circling the stadium, pretending to mind its own business. As soon as Dean and Jo mounted their broomsticks, however, it started speeding up and acting random. The bystanders started whispering, wondering what those two were doing up there, when Jo intercepted the Bludger's path and whacked it with all her might. Apparently all she needed to improve her aim was to channel her anger, because the ball went straight for the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea in a hurry.

"WE'RE TRYING TO PRACTICE HERE," Dean shouted at them.

"AND THERE'S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM," Jo joined in.

As if on cue, the Bludger roared back through the hole it had made in the stands, and Jo sent it toward another section. This time it looked almost like she was aiming at Bela's nose. The Slytherins shrieked and jumped out of the way.

Jo screamed, "MOVE, BITCHES!"

It didn't take any more convincing for the whole group to scramble, picking up their signs and hauling ass back to the castle. If any of them reported this, Dean sure hoped it didn't lead to another week of detention.

The team regrouped next to Olivia, who was lying flat and breathing shallowly, claiming that she was just fine.

"No way you can fly, though," Dixon said matter-of-factly.

Everyone but Gordon nodded. He flexed his shoulder and proceded grimly, "I'm not stopping practice, or there's no way we'll be ready to play Slytherin in November. Dean, you can help her to the hospital wing, and we'll go on without you. Try to come back before we're done."

Dean's mouth flapped dumbly, but he couldn't argue with his captain any more than he already had today. Not after he got on his bad side within the first week. That's probably why Gordon picked him to be left out of practice.

"Sure, whatever," Dean shrugged.

The team walked off toward the center of the pitch while he crouched next to Olivia and checked, "Are you as comfortable as you can get? I can levitate you, just want to make sure this is a good position."

She gave a thumbs up and winced, which Dean doubted was a good sign.

"Yeah, probably best to save your breath, not talk..."

 _I was already doing that_ , she managed to say with just a piercing glare.

"Right, well, your eyes seem to be working fine," he stammered, "so I'll just... yeah, ok."

Without any more ado, he incanted, " _Wingardium leviosa_ ," and she was lifted into the air. He guided her with his wand and kept her as steady as a potion-maker's hands, walking all the way back to the castle and up to the fourth floor.

"Merlin's beard, is she alright?" cried Madam McClellan, hurrying over as soon as she saw them.

Dean set Olivia gently down on one of the infirmary beds and explained, "We think she broke some ribs. She was hit by a Bludger in Quidditch practice."

"Someone should seriously ban that game," the nurse muttered, pulling out her wand and scanning Olivia's body with it. "Five broken ribs and a sprained wrist, I imagine from when she landed. She'll be alright by morning, but she needs to stay the night."

The injured girl groaned in protest, to which McClellan replied, "At least it's the weekend, and you won't be missing any class."

That only made Olivia seem more frustrated, and she slammed her fist weakly on the bed.

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took a step back. "Should I..."

"Yes, you should go now," the nurse answered.

For once, Dean wasn't in the mood to argue, so he nodded and high-tailed it back toward the Quidditch pitch, looking over his shoulder a few times to make sure the caretaker didn't catch him running in the halls. In one ill-timed glance backwards, Dean ran headfirst into Castiel.

Dean plowed into him so hard that they tumbled and crash-landed on the flagstones at the bottom of a staircase. A skull-hammering pain in the back of Dean's head let him know that he'd whacked it on the floor pretty hard, and his first attempt to get up only made him dizzy and fall back down. Cas also failed his first attempt to stand, since his robes were caught under Dean's butt, and his hair invaded Dean's nose when he flopped back down on top of him.

Catching his breath, Dean panted, "Sorry."

Cas grumbled incoherently into Dean's chest.

"Y'know, your hair smells nice and all, but I'd rather not get it actually inside my lungs..."

"Move your butt first," Cas mumbled.

"I can't until you move your butt."

"You crashed into me."

"And now you're crushing me, dude."

Cas pulled his head up, finally relieving Dean's itchy nose, and glared down at him, growling, "You could look where you're going next time."

For a second, Dean thought he was seriously mad at him, but a little twinkle in Cas' eye said otherwise.

"Right back atcha," Dean retorted, a little breathless, and not just from the fall.

Cas was leaning over him, smiling, just like Dean had briefly pictured while lying in bed... oh god no, that was the wrong thing to be thinking with Cas so close and right on top of him. Dean gulped and tried to laugh casually, in the meantime scooting out from under him and freeing Cas' robes. "Seriously though, I'm really sorry."

"Good thing you were still wearing your Quidditch helmet," Cas reassured with a grin, knocking on the side of Dean's head.

"Ow--OW! Cas! That-ow, why you little--"

Dean made to grab his shoulders so he could pin him down and tickle torture him, but he slipped out of Dean's grasp and stood up. "It's almost ready, Dean, I promise," Cas teased cryptically, then ran in the direction he'd been going before.

"Wait, Cas! You--you haven't told me where you've been! Or what you're... up... to." Dean's voice faded away as Cas' figure disappeared around a corner. He sighed and flopped back on the floor, wondering if it was his fault for both wishing Cas here and wishing him away all at once.

Thankfully, he _had_ been wearing his helmet still, dorky as it looked, and it'd probably saved him from a Cas-induced concussion. That didn't keep it from hurting like hell. He took off his helmet and tenderly ran his hand over his skull, checking for bumps or tumors that might explain his brain damage - the only explanation for his sudden desire to have Cas back on top of him, maybe unbuttoning his shirt.

Dean took a deep breath and hurried back to the Quidditch pitch, hoping to erase that last encounter from his short-term memory. It was far from over when Dean returned, and in fact Gordon had another hour and a half of grueling, never-ending drills, laps, and exercises in store for them. He dragged his feet back to the castle from the lockers feeling like he'd fallen down twenty staircases, ate dinner even more like a troll than usual, then fell into his bed fast asleep already.

~~~


	6. Chapter 6

Owls flooded the Great Hall that Sunday morning of the second week of school. The post was always busiest at the beginning of the year, when parents were sending all the things their children forgot, but this was still considerably busier than usual.

A newspaper was dropped in front of Jo, who gave the owl two bronze knuts before tearing it open to the front page.

"Shinsh whed'you gehdhe paper?" Dean asked while still chewing his pancakes.

Jo didn't even grant him a scowl, too busy staring at the headline. "Since our first class with Professor Adler - Dean, _look at this_." She shoved the paper in front of Dean, forcing his fork away from his still-full mouth.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then Dean swallowed far too quickly for comfort.

**_Former Auror Found Perpetrating 'Demon' Scare_ **

_John Winchester, former agent for the Federal Bureau of Magic (aka the 'Demon-Hunter'), was caught breaking in and attempting robbery at F.B.M. Headquarters at 1:13am last night. Now several witnesses have come forward, saying the man also set Dementors on Hogwarts students and staff on the night they arrived at the school. He escaped arrest, and is now a fugitive abroad._  
                _"[Winchester] has essentially been on the run for twelve years, it's a wonder that his face hasn't been on Wanted signs from the start," spoke Jefferson, Head Auror._  
                _The Hogwarts Headmaster, Charles Shurley, was and may still be a known friend to Winchester, and has declined to comment. The Head of the Bureau himself has heard no response from Shurley on this matter._  
                _"All the 'Demon' activity for the last twelve years has obviously been a scam for Winchester and his friends to maintain the power they gained in the first war," explained Lilith McCormick, recently promoted Senior Undersecretary, "At the time, a sect of dark-magic-zealots did emerge, and was defeated. Their leader has not been seen since 1983, which is a claimed sighting by none other than John Winchester."_  
                _The Bureau suspects that Yellow-Eyes was not present on the night of Mary Winchester's death, and that the murder was carried out by John Winchester himself._  
                _"A man who kills his own wife is crazy, of course he was spreading lies to cover it up," stated Anonymous._  
                _This man is officially Wanted Alive for questioning by the F.B.M., and a reward of 10,000 galleons will be given to the witch or wizard who captures him._

Dean was completely frozen, though his heart was racing like mad.

This was... this was his dad they were talking about. Without hesitation, the government blamed him for years of murder and kidnapping, called him a terrorist, and accused him of dark magic. The walls were closing in on him, or so he thought until he realized it was Sam's shadow coming up behind him. Dean took a sharp intake of breath and turned to Sam, who was looking confused, brought over by Tessa. "What is that, Dean?"

His ribcage shuddered and his breath rattled out, so Dean covered his mouth and tried to stop a choked sob. "Sam, I--c'mere." His hands were shaking as he closed the newspaper, the picture of their dad from twelve years ago right beside the article being too much to look at.

Sam stepped forward and sat next to Dean. "What's in the paper?"

Dean ran his hands through his hair and felt Cas sit down on his other side, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder and causing completely different shivers down his spine. Dean glanced at Cas and gave him a nod, accepting the reassurance, then turned back to his brother. "It's about dad. It's not good."

Sam swallowed. "You can tell me. What does it say?"

"Well, you--you're a faster reader than me, right, Sam?" Dean asked, tears starting to well up like they seemed to so often lately. "You're not too young to read so, hah-h-here you go."

He passed the paper over and bent his head down, holding it in his arms and letting his tears run their course for now. Cas' hand was rubbing his trembling shoulders, definitely making all of this look _more_ normal to everyone having breakfast in the Great Hall.

Dean could tell when Sam finished because he softly spoke, "Oh my god."

"Yeah," he croaked, "you got that right."

"They're trying to say he did--"

"Everything. They found their scapegoat... just like Bobby said." Dean swallowed and wiped his face, imagining himself as the one they were after, and almost wishing it.

"What did my dad say about a scapegoat?" Cas asked.

Dean looked up at him, locking eyes. "He said the Bureau was tryin' to prove the Demons were gone, or... never existed." He shrugged, scoffing. "The only thing they needed was someone to blame, to lock up and throw away the key and make everyone THINK it's all over. If they get my dad, no one will know the Demons are STILL OUT THERE and that HE was their only defense."

"There's still the Order."

Dean glared over at Jo, who'd borrowed someone else's newspaper and also read the article faster than Dean.

"I know he's your dad, but... he's not our only defense," she finished.

"But he's the ONLY one who knows as much as he does about these guys!" Dean cried, rising to his feet. "And NOW who's gonna listen?!"

" _Ahem_."

The voice came from behind and they all jumped out of their seats, knowing just who it belonged to.

Zach was standing in the aisle between tables, looking at Dean's tear-streaked face as though it brought joy to his heart. "Are you going to make another scene, Mr. Winchester?"

"Wha--I, uh... no. Professor." Dean sniffed, clenching his bandaged hand.

"Good. I would hate that to cause you another round of detention. Especially considering recent news. Just so you're aware, if you know anything about your father's whereabouts, the Bureau would love to hear it, and would repay you greatly."

"I-I would _nev_ \--ow!" Sam elbowed him, stopping him from doing the second stupidest thing of his life. Dean swallowed and held back more tears. "Yes, sir," he gritted out, still shaking.

"I will not tolerate insubordinance. I expect best behavior tomorrow, no matter the current events. Understand me, Dean?"

" _Yes_ , Professor Adler," Dean replied, voice getting stronger the more he pictured punching the man in the face.

Finally, the Dickhead whistled back to his own table and Dean sat back down, feeling even worse.

Sam's face looked a little red, but before Dean could say another word he was out of his seat and dashing back to his own table. So much for talking about Dad, Sam hadn't said a word since he'd finished reading. They'd have to discuss later, maybe alone in a soundproof room where no one would mind them yelling it out.

Pancakes didn't seem so appealing now, as a worried tightness in his gut had taken hold, even stopping his stomach from spinning when Cas titlted his head with concern.

"You're not alright, Dean," he said, before even asking the question.

Cas was right. Dean felt his pulse skyrocketing and no matter how hard he tried, his lungs couldn't get enough air. He was suffocating in the middle of the airy Great Hall, so something was definitely not alright.

"I have to go," he panted, pulling himself off the bench and willing his feet to move him as quickly as possible to the open doors, on which his vision was closing in. He crossed his arms, holding his robes tightly around him to protect from the stares of the crowd. He had to get out, and he had to get out fast.

The Entrance Hall was empty, and though the noise of the students still poured out the door, standing to the side did quiet them considerably. He found a wall in a darkened corner and put his back against it, trying to think of ways to slow down his breathing and his heart. It was pounding away, impervious to his methods, and he wondered if he was dying of cardiac arrest right here and now.

At some point his butt touched the floor, and someone put their hands on his shoulders. Almost everything was black, but a face appeared at the end of the tunnel he was looking through, wearing an expression of furrowed brows and pressed lips. That was Cas' worried face. That was Cas.

"Dean. _Dean_." He placed his hand on Dean's cheek. "I'm here, Dean. Stay with me."

Everything got bigger, or maybe that was the blackness fading out.

Cas' hand moved to Dean's chest, right over his heart, which was still trying to break through his ribcage. Cas shifted, his breath brushing over Dean's hair as he did. Now he was sitting cross-legged facing Dean, hands on Dean's pulled up knees.

"Try... try to take deep breaths," Cas suggested. Dean had been trying to force that to happen for ages, and thinking about it harder only made his breathing shallower and quicker. Cas hastily corrected, "Just think about... me, then. I'm right here, Dean, I... we're at Hogwarts. We're safe. We, ah, have lots of food and Quidditch and a secret base. I have some chocolate in my bag still, in--in case that helps." His small huff of shaky laughter made the corners of Dean's mouth twitch upward.

Cas was right again. He was at Hogwarts, think about Hogwarts. Cas was petting his hair and it felt like an entire brain massage it tingled so nicely. Cas' voice kept rumbling through his ears and turning the background noise into dull static, until after what felt like hours Dean's breathing slowed down, and he could feel the soothingly cold and solid flagstones beneath his hands. Cas was talking about the treehouse they built that summer, how quiet it was up there, how comfortable with all the pillows and blankets. At some point Dean had closed his eyes to listen and smile, while he took long, slow breaths. At some point also, Cas had taken Dean's hands in his, then gave them a gentle squeeze when Dean finally opened his eyes.

After a pause for one more deep breath, Dean murmured, "How did you do that?"

Cas shrugged, and the gymnastics tournament in his stomach started right back up where it left off.

"Scooch over," Dean said as he let go of Cas' hands and stretched his legs out, making Cas shift to his right and stretch his legs out too.

"Well, I'm glad that worked... whatever I did," Cas smiled, though he was wringing his hands in his lap.

Trying not to stare at Cas' hands wasn't working out, so Dean gave up. "Yeah, me too," he laughed shakily. "Um. What exactly happened?"

"I'm... I'm not sure but it seemed like you had... a panic attack."

Dean frowned. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"No, they're... well, no, you're right, but... I've seen them before. Had them. After my mother..."

Both of their gazes shifted to spots on the floor, and both knew he didn't need to finish that sentence.

"You've been very... on edge lately, Dean. Much is changing, and it's overwhelming, I know. I can't imagine how you feel right now, being at the forefront. The worst part, the part I _know_ , is that blaming yourself is what leads to this. Convincing yourself that you're causing other people to act the way they are."

Dean let that sink in. Softly, he spoke, "You never told me you blamed yourself for that."

"Not at the time. I was six. One minute she was there and the next she was gone, that's all I knew then. It was when I started school that I... let's say I couldn't handle the social pressure. I had to re-face the story, see it how others saw it. Like the way a certain Professor-We-Shall-Not-Name is treating you now."

Dean smiled. "I like it when you talk this much." He hastily added, "Also I'm really sorry you had to go through that and have these... panic attack things. And you didn't have another _you_ to talk you down, either."

"I had my dad." He shrugged ( _Oh god, not again_ ). "And then I had you. I haven't had anything... panicky since we were friends."

Eyes widening, Dean felt like his whole chest was going to float away. "I... really? You haven't...? Wow."

Cas' shoulders came just about up to his ears that time, and seriously, who shrugs that much? Maybe it was just a really shruggy conversation, but it was killing Dean. He really needed to stop thinking about Cas shirtless.

A mass of footsteps started to approach the door, which was their cue to go back in and find the others and decide what to do with the nice end-of-weekend weather.

Of course, on a beautiful day like this, their only choice was to finally catch up on the mountains of homework that had accumulated throughout the week. Fortunately, they were able to give the base windows to the outside that didn't make them feel any less like shut-ins, but at least gave them a chance to appreciate the sun while it lasted.

It stayed with Dean all day that he was like Cas'... superhero. Maybe not superhero, but Dean made him feel grounded enough not to have whatever happened to Dean earlier. It had been one of the scariest experiences of his life, but it was almost a haze now. He was no longer shaken, but quiet and occasionally letting his mind wander back to Cas' words. _And then I had you_.

Jo, Ron, and Tessa were definitely curious about what happened, but Dean didn't share any details. He just had to get out of that big, noisy room for a second was all, while he... controlled his anger. Yeah.

In the early afternoon Cas suddenly sat up, claiming to have just remembered something, then promised to be right back as he disappeared through the door. Dean wondered if it had to do with why Cas was evasive all of the previous day, and shook his head, bemused.

Sometime after Dean's third essay and before Cas' return, there was a knock on the door. They all exchanged glances, wondering _who the hell._

Ron got up and looked through the peephole, then exclaimed, "It's Sam!"

He opened the door for the boy, who slowly stepped inside while no one said anything.

"Um. Hello to you guys, too."

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice low and his eyebrows knit.

The kid looked at his shoes, then back up. "I don't feel like hanging out outside right now. Can I sit here with you guys and read?"

The concern didn't leave Dean's face, but he gave Sam a nod. He checked to make sure everyone else was nodding too, then said, "Definitely, any time."

Sam let out a sigh of relief, then flopped down on the nearest couch and just lay there.

Dean didn't want to bring up his biggest question right away, so he kept working away at his essays and star charts, waiting for the right moment.

Finally, Cas came back, carrying quite a load. It looked like he'd completely raided the kitchens, as Cas had brought them all burgers and fries from dinner, which Dean thought he must've really gone brain-dead to forget. Then Cas also pulled out a bowl, and filled it with a liquid from a jar in his bag.

"Essence of Murtlap, for your hand, Dean. Had to make it from scratch."

"You mean those slimy rat things in the barn?" Dean asked, incredulous. The liquid was pale pinkish-yellow, almost clear, and smelled like the Chinese tea Professor Moseley drank. It didn't seem like something that could come out of a rat with a sea anemone on its back.

"Yes, those rat things," Cas sighed. "Soak your hand in that, it will help."

Dean shrugged and trusted Cas' judgement. Taking off the bandage, he gently sunk his hand in the cool liquid and immediately felt the dull stinging pain start to dissipate. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting all his thoughts just slip away.

"What's that?" he heard Sam ask, and had to open his eyes again.

"Oh. I forgot to say..."

"I saw a bandage on your hand and thought maybe something happened in Quidditch, but--" Sam drew closer, "--is that _writing?"_

Dean gulped. "It's my lines, from detention with Dickface."

Sam's eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. "He's _cutting into your--_ "

"No, it's--he's not like, tying me to a chair and sticking a knife in me, ok? It's this... quill. It writes in... blood."

"He's still torturing you! Dean, why didn't you say something?!"

"WHY IS EVERYONE ASKING ME THAT?!" Dean screamed. A heavy silence fell like a curtain swallowing his voice, absorbing the sound. He panted under the weight of it. "I... I'm sorry, I--"

"Because we hate Adler as much as you do," Tessa scowled at him, arms crossed.

Jo chided, "I told you to tell someone, Dean. We could get him fired."

"No, we couldn't," Dean breathed. "Tattle-telling, it's--it's what he wants me to do. Draw more attention to myself, give them more reason to say my dad was a murderer because his son can't behave in school. That I'll grow up just like my father. Then they could put me away, and shut me up for good."

There was more silence after that, of a different kind. No one had a response to that, just as Dean thought. Cas sat down next to him, handing him a cheeseburger on a plate, and giving him one of those weak smiles that said, _I bet food will make it better..._

With a sigh, Dean dug in, though eating with one hand was difficult. The quiet he'd felt after Cas calmed him down earlier was gone, replaced by hatred for Zachariah and the Bureau, fear that he'd never see his dad again, frustration that no one, not even Sam, quite understood what this situation was putting him through. Easy for them to say he should run to the Headmaster and tell on mean old Zach, but they weren't the ones with the scars on their hand and the journal in their pocket. Cas was still the only one who knew Dean had John's journal, and Dean intended to keep it that way.

Dean looked at the still-insurmmountable pile of books and parchment in front of him, at which point Cas pulled one down and got out his quill. "Let me give you a hand, Dean."

"What? Don't you have homework of your own, don't worry about me--"

"I'm finished with mine. And how are you supposed to write while soaking your hand?"

He had to admit, Cas had logic. If it meant finishing his homework and not having to give his hand the worst cramps in history, it was okay.

Cas talked him through most of it, so Dean still had to listen to lectures on all the subjects he'd rather ignore, but somehow Cas made things make sense. He could boil things down, make the lesson have a point. If his brain always worked like that, no wonder he understood everything.

By eight o'clock he was done, _and_ Dean could probably pass a potions quiz if he had to. He groaned and pressed his forehead to the table, face down, hand still resting in the bowl of Murtlap essence in his lap. "It's over. I'm done. Fifth year has come and gone and everything is easier from this point forward."

"Afraid not, Dean."

"Shhhhh, don't spoil the moment of delusion," Jo whispered from accross the table.

"I should probably head back to Ravenclaw tower," Sam announced, standing, though he didn't look happy about it.

"Is something wrong?" Tessa asked. She stole Dean's question.

Sam sighed. "The article. No one's talking to me. Jess wouldn't even look at me, and Ruby, well... she wanted to talk too much."

Tessa sat down on the arm of the couch to be at eye level and put her hands on his shoulders, saying, "I bet they're under a little pressure, too. Sounds like Jess isn't sure if she wants to denounce a government decree, but she doesn't want you to hate her if she doesn't. Ruby, on the other hand, is crazy and you should avoid her anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes, then shrugged. "Thanks. I guess that... helps."

"Good friends won't judge you for what the paper writes about your parents."

Sam nodded and picked up his bag, and Dean thought he should probably do something. He put down the bowl, flicked the liquid off his hand, and headed to the door to give Sam a proper hug. His friends were awesome for looking after Sam sometimes, especially Tessa, but he was still the only one who could be Sam's big brother.

"Hey, bro," he said, wrapping his arm around Sam's shoulders at waist-height, "take care."

Sam took a second, but then he threw both his arms around Dean's waist and squeezed with all his might. "Thanks, Dean. Stay outta trouble."

"I'll try." Sam let go and hiked his bookbag back onto his shoulder, so Dean opened the door for him. "See you around."

"See ya."

Sam waved goodbye and tread softly down the corridor, heading to bed.

~~~


	7. Chapter 7

Dean came down to breakfast the next morning to find the Great Hall ten times louder than usual, the clamor of voices frantically discussing what had to be yesterday's news, unless even more had happened since then, Dean trembled to think. When Dean walked by, many conversations dropped to a whisper, and quick glances followed him everywhere. When he arrived at his usual spot, he glared around at the room, daring anyone to stare.

The only one who did was Bela, laughing and holding up the picture of John Winchester that had been in yesterday's paper, slowly tearing it in half.

If that wasn't a threat, Dean didn't know what was.

He turned back to face his own table and Jo was gaping at yet another article in the paper. It couldn't possibly be worse than Sunday's, though, so he plopped in his seat and sighed, "What now?"

Jo set her fork down and swallowed before reading aloud:

**_"Headmaster Shurley Called into Question_ **

**_Bureau Appoints Zachariah Adler New Hogwarts Advisor"_ **

"What?!"

"Shh.

_"After yesterday's allegations against John Winchester and subsequent inspection of Hogwarts Headmaster Charles Shurley's latest activities, the Bureau has passed new legislation to allow a higher level of control over the school's main functions, mainly its sanctioned activities and its teachers._

_"'Director Michael Milligan wants to fix the damage that these years of war have done,' said Marcus Esper, Assisstant to the Director, 'and is thus responding to distress calls from the community about the state of our education system. Now that the distraction of Demons is gone, we can focus on the real problems in Wizarding Society.'_

_"As recently as last month, Milligan implemented Educational Directive Twenty-Two, allowing the Bureau to select and implement teachers to open posts, should the Headmaster be unable to find a replacement in the allotted time. That is how Zachariah Adler was appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after teaching Arithmancy for nearly twenty years._

_"'You couldn't find a more well-qualified and experienced man to take the job,' assured Esper, 'He's been dedicated to teaching for quite some time, yet has always shown loyalty to the Bureau through his family ties to the institution as well as regular donations to the Department of Justice. With his new post, Adler was unofficially appointed an advisor to the Department of Education, sending them feedback directly from the field, and he has implemented a curriculum developed by the Wizard's Council itself, which has been quite a success so far.'"_

"Yeah, successfully turning our brains to _mush_ \--"

_"The newest Educational Directive formalizes his role between school and Bureau, creating the new position of 'Hogwarts Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor.'_

_"Zachariah Adler has accepted this responsibility in addition to his teaching post, and will now have the powers to inspect fellow educators, making sure they come up to the new standards determined by the Bureau._

_"The news was received with warm welcome by many parents, who previously feared the safety of their students at Hogwarts and wondered what sort of educational environment could be fostered in such a place._

_"'About time Milligan started getting suspicious of just what they're teaching at that school. Events like that Dementor attack aren't happening at Durmstrang, are they? Nope, and it's got everything to do with John Winchester and his involvements with that Headmaster,' stated George Phelps, concerned parent._

_"'My son's told me stories that could make your skin fall off. Half of his teachers definitely aren't fit for the job, and it's about time they got rid of Shurley as well, as his rather eccentric way of running things just won't do,' said Mrs. Judith Finnerman, mother of Raphael Finnerman, Slytherin's Quidditch Team Captain._

_"Such 'eccentric decisions' include his appointment of half-mermaid Mara Daniels--"_

"No!" Dean interjected.

"-- _as Charms Professor, five years ago, very soon after her graduation from the very same institution. Many of her collegues include long-time friends of Headmaster Shurley, such as Ellen Harvelle and Robert Singer, both heavily involved in the fight against so-called Demons and possibly in on the hoax that it turned out to be."_

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!" Dean cried.

"Shut up.

_"It is speculated on the Wizard's Council whether Shurley remains fit to be Headmaster of formerly-prestigious Hogwarts, or if his management skills prove not up to the par of his predecessors._

_"'Certainly, giving the school a good inspection is a good start toward getting us a headmaster we can trust,' spoke Miriam Brady_ , _Council member as well as mother to her own Hogwarts student._

_"Two elder members of the Council, Deborah Leeds and Jonas Walton, have resigned after this latest Educational Directive, proclaiming their continued support of Shurley and not denying any claims that they once did or still do maintain a friendship with fugitive, John Winchester (see page 15 for details)."_

"What the fuck?" Dean said, gaping and causing a few first years down the table to gasp.

Jo put down the paper and crossed her arms, glaring at the huge front page picture of Professor Adler shaking hands with Michael Milligan. "Load of bullshit," she spat. "Taking over the school, pretty soon we'll be part of their regime. Even if they're focusing on Hogwarts and Shurley, I bet the other schools in the country are still being subjected to all these new fucking beurocratic standards."

Dean hadn't thought of that. " _Jesus._ This isn't reform, this is fascism!"

"What is Jee-zus and since when did you know squat about fascism, Dean?" Tessa asked, taking the spot next to Jo and also glaring at the picture on the front page with all the wrath of someone who'd read the article.

"I--" Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple times before sputtering, "Well... hey, I lived with a squib Catholic Priest growing up, so I picked up some muggle swears, okay? Not to mention muggle history, and all that crap about Hilter and Moose-a-leanie."

Jo and Tessa both gave him cold stares for a moment, then turned toward each other and started discussing politics.

Clearly it was time for Dean to fuel up, so he had a few bites to eat (seven pieces of bacon and a plate full of hashbrowns) and gave his brain a chance to kick in, after which his ears picked up their conversation once more.

"It's a wonder they haven't stopped letting in the mail," Tessa shuddered.

"Oh, they're letting it all in alright," Jo replied. "They want to keep brainwashing everyone, make it seem like we're 'unifying' ourselves under one governmental roof. Sorry, but the roof has some pretty big holes."

"Tell me about it," Dean sighed.

"Maybe I will!" she cried, and Dean started backwards, hanging onto the table so as not to fall off the bench. "Y'know, this whole thing stinks. Yesterday, they didn't just accuse your dad, they called Shurley's administration into question, and they're gonna crack down hardest on us just because they think he's against them. Which, he probably is, and he'd be right. It's not about 'raising standards' and producing the 'best and brightest' for our future. It's about keeping Shurley from teaching us to stand up for ourselves!"

Ron had arrived mid-rant, read the paper, then sat next to Dean to listen to Jo from a safe distance. He put his hands in his pockets and thought aloud, "Shurley... teaching _us_ to stand up for ourselves?"

"Yeah..." Dean answered, "He doesn't look like the standing-up kinda guy, but he did found the Order and had to become Headmaster for a reason."

"I've done some reading about him since yesterday, actually," Jo announced, to their surprise. "He's Badge of Merlin, First Class, and basically the world's best diplomat since 1939, when his career really kicked off. He's way older than he looks, and way better at writing than he is speaking. He ended magical involvement in the second World War just by writing letters to different leaders and calling out a ceasefire. Didn't stop the muggles' wars, but way less people were hurt just because witches and wizards decided to keep out of it. He helped write an amendment to the Bureau's Constitution that respected the preservation of lands owned or inhabited by magical creatures like Giants and Centaurs, and there's way more. He's Headmaster because he wrote an entire book called _Wind of Change_ , all about teaching and how it would be affected by the way the world was changing at the time - the coming of war with Demons, just as they were starting to emerge. He knew they weren't _just_ a cult, and that they were a bigger threat than anyone else guessed. When people started to realize he was right, they made him Headmaster of his alma mater."

"When did you have time to read all this?" Dean asked.

She glared at him. "Some of us finished our homework earlier than others."

"Okay..." said Ron, "If Shurley's so influential, why do so many of our teachers suck?"

"Do they? Besides Crowley, and now Adler, do any of our teachers fail to get us through our exams? Don't they all let us learn hands-on? We hate everyone this year because we have so much work, but most of our professors are actually astounding."

Dean did think about it, and she was right. He thought it was just a fluke that he was never held back, but he owed it to his professors who gave him second chances and believed he had it in him. On the other hand, he had no idea why Shurley ever kept Crowley around, unless it was a 'keep your enemies closer' kind of thing.

Jo went on, "Shurley also doesn't judge them on their backgrounds or appearances, just ability to teach. Not all our professor's histories are sunshine and rainbows, and that's also what scares the Bureau."

"Wizard's Council sounds like a bunch of weasels to me," Ron muttered.   "Inspecting the school, pssh."

Just then, Cas appeared on Dean's other side and sat down with a thump, banging his fists on the table, clenching a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Educational Auditor. Fuck. He does _not_ need more power."

Dean had never felt his eyebrows go so high, hearing Cas swear like that. He looked pissed, hair standing up, robes askew, and his tie backwards. It would seem like Cas just had wildly enthusiastic sex if he wasn't so angry. Dean swallowed the thought of Cas and sex in the same sentence, deciding to tidy up Cas' hair and re-tie his tie for him so no one else would get any bad ideas.

"Dean, wha--"

"You can't show up to class like this, dumbo. Look like you just... dragged yourself outta bed."

"I _have_ dragged myself out of bed, then to the owlery, and now here. I was up late reading the Headmaster's book, _Winds of Change_."

"YOU'RE the one who already had it checked out!" Jo cried, pointing her finger at Cas.

His head whirled toward her and he leaned forward, gaping. "And YOU had the books on recent history!"

Dean huffed impatiently, holding the ends of Cas' tie, unfinished. "Cas..."

"Right, sorry, Dean. Jo, have you finished with them yet?"

"Yeah, I have them on me. You have Shurley's book?"

"I do! We can trade!"

Cas tore himself away from Dean again, just when he was almost done with the knot, reaching for his bag and pulling out a book that he traded for three of Jo's.

"I bookmarked the sections that were about Shurley, didn't have time to read them all back to front," she explained, examining the cover of _Winds of Change._

"Thank you, Jo." He nodded, filling his bag with the things that looked heavier than bricks.

Dean sighed heavily when Cas was sitting up straight again, turning the boy toward himself and finally pulling the tie through the knot and adjusting it, leaving it still fairly loose, just how Cas liked it.

"That's better."

Cas smiled. "Thanks."

There was an awkward pause where they stayed facing each other, but not making very much eye contact. Dean looked back and forth between Cas' collarbone and his chin for a moment before clearing his throat and facing forward again, shoving his face with more food even though he was already nearly full.

A second later, in his state of heightened self-consciousness, Dean noticed that even the professors at the staff table were glancing at him and whispering. Ellen caught his eye and gave him a serious nod of the head, while Mrs. Moseley was simply staring at him, looking worried. Surprisingly, the new Chief Auditor was nowhere to be seen, probably preparing some new form of torture for the whole school.

The end-of-breakfast bell rang and the students dispersed into the many castle hallways, Dean speed-walking toward History of Magic as though getting there sooner would make it end sooner. An inspection for the ghost, that would be interesting, he thought. Colt would probably completely ignore Adler, just as he ignored his students. That would go over well.

He was almost there when a tall, imposing Ravenclaw bumped into Dean's shoulder and sent the contents of his bag scattering across the floor. It was Uriel, the beater who almost killed Cas with an illegal, post-game bludger last year. Dean tensed and prepared himself for a full-blown fist-fight, but the sixth year said, "Whoops, sorry Dean. Didn't see you there, thought you left school to be a wild fugitive with your dad. Guess not."

Dean gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I'm here and I'm _visible_. Maybe you've been hit in the head too many times to walk straight."

"I'm afraid you're the brain-damaged monkey here, raised by a wacko like that. What does that kinda guy do for birthday presents anyway, teach you to kill people?"

"My dad is NOT A MURDERER!" Dean shouted back, hoping desperately Zachariah was out of earshot.

Uriel tsked at Dean, "There's that famous temper. I say it's high time they locked up that son of a bitch, put him in Azkaban where he _belongs_."

Two hands grabbed each of Dean's arms and pulled him away from the other student, who walked away and disappeared around the corner. It was Ron and Jo who'd caught up to him and stopped him from pummeling the guy.

"Almost didn't get to you in time," Jo panted, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Dean spat. "Nothing important."

They'd gotten into the habit of not asking questions, and Dean couldn't tell if it was more or less annoying. Their response was to shrug and start helping pick up his things, which they gathered up quickly then went to class, where they waited, staring at the door with bated breath. But, Professor Colt started his lecture and Adler never showed. Dean was thankful for that, as they'd have a full period of his teaching next; the last thing he wanted was a full day surrounded by Dick-face.

The walk to Defense Against the Dark Arts was uneventful, but the same could not be said for the class itself. Zachariah began with "Wands away," as usual, but then told them to open up their books to page one hundred and three to take notes, getting a few odd looks that they were jumping ahead.

No one questioned the order, however, not until Dean started reading the actual text.

_Chapter Twelve: Trusting the Authorities and Court of Law_

Dean only read the headlines, and that was enough to tell him that Zach chose this reading specifically to strike up his temper. And it was working.

_Section 1: Reports of Dangerous Fugitives and How to Respond_

_Section 2: The Justice System Is Just - and That's Just the Truth_

_Section 3: Witnessing - What to Do When It Happens to You_

Dean wanted to rip the pages out and set them on fire on Zach's bald spot. At the very least he wanted to pound his fists on the table and scream that this was complete bullshit, that his father was innocent, that this world needed to leave him the fuck alone.

Instead he clenched his jaw and took deep breaths, looking up briefly to see the other students' reactions. Many of them looked half-asleep, unaware of what Zach was doing. Jo, on the other hand, was gripping chunks of her hair in her fists and banging the sides of her head with them. Ron was frowning, staring at one spot on the page, not reading anything else. Nancy was violently rolling her eyes at every other sentence, while Lisa who was right in front of Dean was neatly repeating the word "bullshit" in her notes.

So, at least Dean had the reassurance that some people hated the Bureau enough to perhaps not blame his dad for everything. He hoped.

He swept his eyes over the classroom once more, but that time he accidentally caught the corner of Zachariah's eye as the professor peeked over the top of his own book that he read while sitting at his desk, watching over the silent classroom.

Dean hastily snapped his gaze back down to his book and chewed his tongue, hoping to look like he was as attentive as everyone else. But, a pit formed in his gut as he heard the scrape of Adler's chair legs, and the professor slowly made his way to Dean's desk, checking everyone's notes. Lisa quickly turned her page over and started writing real notes, making it look like she was already on page two, while Dean had nothing. He gulped.

"Have you found nothing interesting enough to write down, Winchester? You will be tested on this material."

"Yes, Professor. I mean--no, Professor, it's... very interesting." Dean was grinding his molars with the effort of restraint.

Zach cleared his throat and smiled. "Anything in particular?"

"Uh..." Dean glanced down at the page and saw the headline, _Doing the Right Thing: When Loved Ones Are Involved_. "Hah," he blurted before his brain could kick in, "Justice, _doing the right thing_ , do you seriously think _I_ think this is fair? That my dad's being chased by Demons _and_ the government now?"

"That so?"

Dean's breath was coming faster now, "They framed him, you _all_ framed him, does no one get it?! My mom was killed by the Yellow-Eyed Demon, that's who's been planning this all along!"

He was panting, standing up face-to-face with Adler, his insides were screaming at him to shut up, same as the looks on the faces of the entire class. Jo was making frantic motions at him to sit down, but he couldn't bring himself to surrender in front of Zachariah.

"Ohhh, Dean, Dean, Dean... What am I going to do with you?" The man took a deep breath, looking Dean up and down like a bug to be squashed. "Perhaps another week of detention will do the trick?"

Jo and Rick both groaned, holding their heads in their hands - there was supposed to be another Quidditch practice that night, and Dean would miss it once again. Gordon was going to kill him.

That panicky feeling was starting to rise up again, and he decided to sit back down before he fell down. "Yes, sir," was all he managed before pressing his palms to his eyes and trying to block all light from coming in.

His breathing was getting shallower by the second, and Lisa whispered over her shoulder, "You ok?"

Dean shook his head furiously and gasped out, "Think'm gonnabe sick."

Without looking at any of his classmates or the professor, Dean dumped his book back in his bag and ran out of the room, not stopping until he reached the second floor bathroom and locked himself in a stall.

What did Cas say last time? Think about the trees...

He sat down on the lidded toilet and banged his fists against the walls, thinking, _He won't listen, they don't know, my dad's not a killer--what if they_ never _listen, what if Dad ends up in Azkaban "where he belongs"..._

A chill like being dropped in an ice bath suddenly rushed through him and a silvery mist appeared out of nowhere. Then, a boy was hovering in front of him, wearing a frown.

"That's my toilet," he said.

"Your... what?"

"I don't like it when people bang on the walls, either."

Dean's lungs filled with cold air and at last started to slow down his pulse, while he stared at the boy in surprise. He'd never seen him in the castle before, drifting around with the other ghosts. He looked only slightly younger but a lot skinnier than Dean, had dark hair in a bowl cut, and very baggy jeans.

"Who... who're you?" Dean compelled himself to ask.

"You first."

Dean's eyebrows went up, but he answered, "Dean."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Heh... funny y-you should ask. Not actually sure..."

"It's been a while since I've breathed air, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do it like that."

"Yeah, you... sure would think so," Dean laughed. "Never did catch your name--"

"Not telling you. I don't like it. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't have feelings," he spat, then floated away through the wall to the next stall over.

Dean had to admit it was weird sitting on a toilet talking to a ghost, so he was glad the boy left. He sighed and bent over, resting his head on his knees and closing his eyes.

There was a splash, then the next stall became a puddle, so Dean decided to leave before the whole bathroom was flooded. He had an inkling that he'd heard the ghost's nickname somewhere along the line, then forgotten it. Whatever it was, it wasn't very nice.

He stood in the corridor and wondered if he should go back to class, or use this new free time for something else. If so, what? Should he go to the hospital wing? When he thought about telling the nurse what was happening, he imagined her laughing at him, telling him to just get a grip. That was a no. What about the library to do homework? Boring, also no. Infest Zachariah's office with cockroaches? Not enough time and too risky, no.

Out of habit, he headed to the base, and spent half an hour throwing darts at a portrait of his least-favorite professor, provided automatically by the mind-reading room. After going at least ten rounds, he went down to lunch and found his friends already sitting down, watching him worriedly as he made his way to them.

Dean was halfway to their spot at Gryffindor table when Rick stood up and blocked his way.

"You didn't think that was funny, did you? Back in class?"

Stopping in his tracks, Dean stuttered, "W-what, no! I didn't mean for that to happen!"

"After the fifteenth time, I think we all know why you really do it." Rick shook his head. "You're always bringing attention to yourself, but no one gives a _crap_ about what you wanna say."

_My own fucking teammate_ , Dean swore in his head. Expanding his chest, he replied, "Yeah? I bet every one of you would stand up to Adler if you weren't scared shitless by the Bureau. Me, I've got nothing left to lose."

As soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. Rick obviously knew it was a lie as well, as he scoffed and retorted, "Have fun telling Gordon how you've put your own emotions before the team."

"Telling me _what now_?" came a chilling voice from right behind.

Dean whirled around to find Gordon looming over his shoulder. Rick hastily sat down and got out of harm's way, leaving Dean alone in the aisle with his captain's bloodthirsty glare.

"I, uh... uh, well, it's not that bad, I swear--"

_"What. Did. You. Do."_

"Adler gave me another week of detention," Dean spoke as fast as he could, "Completely not my fault, he's out to get me--"

_"Not. Your. Fault? Seriously?"_

Dean was backing up, inching toward his friends, hoping for protection.

_"Dean. Don't. Push. Me."_

"I-I-I'm not..."

_"Fix. Your. Attitude."_

With that, Gordon turned on his heel and walked back to his end of the table, robe billowing behind him. Dean sunk onto the bench next to Cas, exhaling all the air he had left.

"Dean, where have you been?" Cas whispered, "They said you left class early, feeling sick. Dean?"

He had his eyebrows just slightly raised, that knowing expression that meant he saw right through everything.

Still sitting facing away from the table, Dean put his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "What you think happened is exactly what happened," he grumbled.

Cas gave a single nod. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay. You don't have to."

He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it gently, then letting go and continuing to eat his lunch. The idea of food sounded good, Dean thought, so he sat up and turned around, grabbing a sandwich and several handfuls of potato chips. He wasn't going to make it through detention that night if he didn't have some sustenance.

All afternoon, they waited for one of their classes to have an inspection, but none came. Dean was happy to spend less time with Adler, but it also meant he still had to dread the things the man might say, even to the best teachers.

Before dinner, Bobby caught him by the sleeve and pulled him to one side of the Great Hall's doors, away from the flood. "Need to talk to you for a sec, kid," he whispered.

"Uh... okay," Dean whispsered back.

"Heard about you and Zachariah earlier today. Did you listen to a damn word I said about keepin' your head down?"

Dean's face felt warm, and he gazed at his shoes. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"But ya did it anyway, Dean. I don't care if he insults your entire family tree, just don't fall for his crap anymore. The Bureau can take away from you way more than you even know."

"But my dad was _framed_ \--"

"What's done is done. You can't save his name just by gettin' angry at Adler. And trust me, you don't want to see him get angry at you."

Bobby took a step to leave, but was stopped by Castiel, who'd realized Dean was no longer right behind him and had come back.

"Father, he hasn't inspected your class yet, has he?" Cas fidgeted.

"No," Bobby sighed, putting his hands on Cas' shoulders. "And don't worry about me, okay kid?"

"Okay. But has he inspected anyone else?"

Bobby forced out a chuckle, "He's only done one class so far. Muggle Studies. The things that bastard said to Jody..." He looked over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Never mind, boys. Go eat."

They did as they were told, though every bite Dean took brought him closer and closer to detention. He ate slower and slower, trying to savor what might be his last moments on this earth.

As eight o'clock drew nearer and Dean felt more and more like he was waiting for his execution, he started considering crazy things like standing up on a table and singing, or kissing Cas just to see what would happen. He wouldn't have to own up to any of his actions if he was dead, right? Not unless he became a ghost, like that boy who lived in the toilet. Oh god, he thought as he imagined Cas confronting him in a bathroom stall to call him an idiot and give him a potty-nickname.

"Dean, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He shook himself out of his reverie and looked into Cas' worried eyes. _His lips are just right there..._ "No, I'm fine," he gulped.

"No you're not. Eat this before you go."

It was a chocolate bar, which Cas partially unwrapped and placed in Dean's hand.

He obeyed, trying to shoo away his wayward thoughts while the warmth from the chocolate seeped through him. Cas nodded approvingly, but looked a bit sad all the same. When Dean left the base five minutes before eight, Cas looked sorry enough for the both of them.

~~~


	8. Chapter 8

It was a sour morning, still put off by the previous night's detention where Zach did nothing but sneer and occasionally make comments, to which Dean had to bite his tongue til it bled to keep himself from talking back. It only made the dick look even more pleased.

But things looked slightly up when Ellen got her inspection in Transfiguration. Zach was already seated in the corner when the students filed in, Ellen arriving last, ignoring him as she swept off her cloak which she wore for her brisk morning walk before class. Her cheeks were still red from the cool air outside, and Zachariah scribbled a note even though she hadn't yet spoken.

"Morning, class," she addressed. "I'd like to start with a quick review, just to see what you all remember about--"

"Ahem."

"--vanishing spells. Afterwards, we'll pick up where we left off and see how well all of you practiced since last time. So, w--"

" _Ahem_."

" _Yes?_ " She finally turned on Adler with a scowl.

He half-smiled, flinching a little under her piercing stare. "Just making sure, you did get my memo?"

"Obviously."

"Right, good, so--"

"Which said that you'd like to see my class the way I usually teach it, and that to me means _uninterrupted_."

"Ah."

It seemed Zach had been her colleague long enough to know not to mess with her, despite his newfound power. He sat quietly through the rest of class, though his quill scribbled furiously, almost nonstop.

"Glad I'm not the only one who stands up to him," Dean whispered sideways to Ron while they were practicing vanishing mice on their own.

"Yeah, but Dean, who _isn't_ afraid of Ellen?"

"Touché."

After that was Bobby's turn. Dean doubted this would go quite so well.

Zach began by simply listening to the start of the lesson on kneazles, which was accented by Bobby's actual pet kneazle roaming amongst the students, who were seated on benches in the stables, and letting some of them scratch between its ears. It was as docile as a domestic cat, lazily flicking its tufted tail and tall, pointed ears, but it kept a wide berth away from Adler. He cleared his throat and it turned its head suddenly, narrowing its slitted pupils.

Cas scribbled a note on the corner of his parchment, slanting it for Dean to see. " _The kneazle can sense evil in him_."

" _No shit_ ," Dean wrote back, grinning.

Maybe Dick-face could sense when Dean was feeling even remotely happy, because he cleared his throat again and stood to get Bobby's full attention.

"...which can--uh, yeah, Professor?"

"Is it entirely wise to have this magical creature simply roaming about the classroom, ah... _barn_ , distracting and posing a potential threat to the students?"

"Wh--potential threat? I mean, if it thinks you're suspicious and you really threaten it, it'll defend itself. But Bo here's been one o' my best pets for years, she'd never hurt anybody, especially not a student."

Zach took a step closer and Bo hissed at him.

"I see," he sneered and made a note.

"As I was sayin'," Bobby continued, "you wanna think real carefully before you adopt any creature, magical or non-magical, as a pet. Yeah, a kneazle can be real handy, low-maintenence, real sweet, too, but some people jump too quickly into getting one before they realize it's got to take a liking to you, not to mention you've got to take a liking to it. Most neglected pets are the ones owned by people who weren't ready to take care of them from the start. Now, this may be difficult for some of you, but look _beyond_ your O.W.L.'s. There's a life outside, believe it or not." He chuckled, as did much of the class.

Zach cleared his throat again.

"Not to say that tests are unimportant, kids. Uh, study up. Let's see, the kinds of questions that'll be on the exams... can anyone tell me one of the three main features to tell a kneazle apart from any other cat?"

A Ravenclaw raised her hand and earned herself five house points for the first right answer, while Zach began to roam amongst the benches.

"How often does he let animals have free reign about the room?" he asked a surprised Anna in tones only slightly softer than Bobby's continued discussion of kneazles' main features, making him halt mid-sentence.

"--big ears--uh--now, just whaddya think you're doing, _Inspector_?" Bobby demanded, while Anna's jaw flapped weakly.

"I am questioning your class, as I said I would be doing in my memo..."

"Not while I'm talking, you're not."

Zach gave an ingratiating smile. "Of course, pardon the intrusion."

Bobby frowned but moved on, while Zach paced across the back of the room, making several notes on his clipboard.

At last, when the overview was done, the students broke into pairs to take turns getting a more thorough look at Bo while other groups worked on their porlock[[ref](http://www.hp-lexicon.org/bestiary/bestiary_p.html)] projects they started last class. Dean felt the last two lessons had been positively boring, since Bobby normally liked to teach them about stuff like Fire Crabs and Thestrals, not crups and knarls and the like. They learned those last year. But he bit his tongue, pretty sure Bobby planned this for the oncoming inspection, knowing Adler would find anything to complain about which included so-called "too-advanced" material.

Now that the class was divided, Adler took his opportunity to swoop in and start interrogating. He restated his question to Anna, who looked just as perturbed by it as before.

"Um, depends on the creature? He always tells us how to properly handle it first. Care of Magical Creatures is supposed to be hands-on, isn't it?"

"Sure, sure. As long as it's not the creatures' hands on the students..."

"That's not really--"

"And, ah..." He turned to Tamara, the Ravenclaw chaser who _hated_ Dean. "What appears to be the relationship between Professor Singer and the Headmaster?"

" _That's completely unrelated to actual teaching,_ " Cas hissed under his breath. He and Dean exchanged dark looks, then both put their heads down and tried not to glare directly at Adler.

"Pretty good friends, I think." She shrugged.

"...Is that so? How would you describe his attitude to recent events? Have Demons, for instance, ever come up in discussion?"

"Well, sometimes he tells us not to believe everything we read. He really doesn't like the _Daily Prophet_."

"Hmm, _states... personal... opinions... as... facts..._ " he muttered out loud while scratching his quill.

Zach was inching ever closer to Dean and Cas, pronouncing the notes he was taking more and more clearly as he went, always making some infuriating leap in logic. Dean wondered with gritted teeth how Adler took "He doesn't just stick to the exam material, says there's more to life than tests" to mean, " _teaches... as though... preparing... students... for war..._ "

"Ah." The man had gotten too close to pretend he didn't see them now. He grinned evilly. "Young Mr. Singer and Mr. Winchester. Like fathers, like sons, eh?"

Each bit his tongue, fully aware of the issue he would try to bring up.

"May I remind you, as Inspector, I can require you to answer my questions fully and honestly, unless of course you wish to sit a few more detentions."

Cas' eyes narrowed and stared down Adler, blazing with an edge of fury, while the back of Dean's hand stung hotly under its bandages.

Jo and Ron were giving them sideways glances though most of their attention was on their porlock, which had left some droppings on Ron's shoe.

"I can't imagine," Zach went on, "anyone would want that."

"No, _sir_." Cas was positively steaming.

"Good. Excellent. _So_. Are either of you or Professor Singer in contact with John Winchester?"

Jo's hand slipped and dropped the spade she was using to pick up the porlock dung, meanwhile Dean and Cas both clenched their fists tightly. The urge to punch was the strongest yet.

" _No_ ," growled Cas.

Dean shook his head. "Haven't heard from him."

"Absolutely positive?"

"Hundred percent."

"And what about the Professor, or should I say your guardian?"

"What about me?" Bobby asked, stepping in.

Adler flinched almost unnoticeably, since he quickly regained posture and stepped back, allowing Bobby to join in the conversation.

"Oh, just a simple question, really..."

"Does it relate to this class?"

"Pardon?"

"This is a teaching inspection, right? Not a background check. If the Bureau wants to know about personal matters, then they can ask me personally."

Zachariah squinted. "I see. In that case, there may come a time when they will, and then you will no longer be able to avoid my questions."

"Fine by me."

"Very well. I think I have all I need from you two, then. Carry on."

The Chief Inspector nodded to Dean, Cas, Bobby, then stalked away, muttering to his quill, " _Shows... favoritism... toward... his... dependants..._ "

The look Bobby gave the back of Zach's head was nearly enough to cheer Dean up, were it not for the appalling notes that left him and Cas cringing, watching their porlock kick around its bed of hay, not saying a word for the rest of class.

Dean was so tense that night in detention that he thought he was going to break the quill. Stupid thing must've been magically reinforced, though. He trudged back to his room, wrote an essay and a half, then fell asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

By the end of the week, Dean thought he had enough unfinished homework to fill the lake and drown him. Even Cas was struggling to keep up, and every single lesson was “O.W.L.s this” and “O.W.L.s that.” Fifth year was _killing_ them. They spent the entire weekend catching up, and Dean vowed never to get detention again. Nobody honestly believed him.

Before they even knew it, October came and brought an early foot of snow. It was a colder year than usual and Dean secretly blamed it on Zachariah being the White Witch in ugly disguise, making it forever Winter and never Christmas. He could easily see the dick posting a notice: _Educational Directive Number Twenty-eight, Christmas is cancelled, and everyone has to sit in study hall reading Defensive Magical Theory for all of Winter break._

If Dean had to read one more line of that book, he was going to shred it to pieces and feed it to flobberworms. Not once did they actually practice magic in that class, and the vain hope that made some students keep getting their wands out at the beginning had died. They knew better now, though Zach still said, "Wands away," every morning as he waltzed in, just as a cruel reminder.

Dean was not the only one complaining about Adler's teaching methods, and they had thought _Crowley_ had been bad. Jo clearly hated it more than anyone, seeing her favorite subject so degraded. She had cast a fully-formed patronus at the beginning of the year, and now they were taking notes on 'how to know if you're in a situation which may or may not require defensive magic.' Dean was a bit jealous knowing just how talented Jo could be, but he didn't envy the frustration she must've felt.

One night, sitting around a table in the Base while writing essays on the five steps to tell if the spell just used on you is a hex, Dean brought up the memory of Jo's patronus - even though it meant having to recall the dementors as well.

“Yeah, you could probably teach us more than Adler and his stupid book,” Tessa agreed.

Ron nodded and added, “We could be in danger this very second. We have to be prepared!”

Jo stared at them. “You... want _me_ to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

When she put it like that, it seemed a lot less plausible, Dean had to admit. “Well, maybe... maybe we could be like the Order!”

“How do you mean?”

“We’ll train ourselves to fight Demons, like them! Make a secret society, make sure Zach never finds out about it, either."

"How would we do all that by ourselves, Dean?" Cas questioned.

"We already have a secret base, right? Hell, we could find out if anyone else wants to learn some real magic, and have Jo teach us right here!"

"Hey, I haven't agreed to this yet!"

"But you’re better at it than anyone else," Ron pleaded, "And no one else knows as many auror stories as you!"

"Yeah, dude, I bet you learned tons from those guys at the Roadhouse," Dean argued.

"Guys, guys, I love you, but this is ridiculous. I've never taught anything, or been specially trained in Defense. Sure, I've gotten some tips along the way, but holding your own in a fight is totally different from being in a classroom, talking about what you're _supposed_ do in a situation. There's no time to make thought-out choices, it all just comes down to instincts, friends, and luck."

They stared at her, dumfounded, and she glared back. Dean wanted to smack sense into her, but he didn't cause she'd probably smack him back harder.

Jo threw her hands in the air. "Merlin's fucking _beard_ , what?! What do you want me to say? _Yes_ , I'll teach you?!"

"Yeah!" Ron exclaimed. "Did you even hear yourself?"

"You'd be awesome!" Tessa entreatied.

The group bombarded Jo with puppy-dog eyes until she finally sighed and her shoulders sagged. "Don't be surprised when no one wants to listen to me. I'm just a fifteen-year-old who's seen too much."

" _I'm_ the one who nobody wants to listen to, remember?" Dean pointed out. "As long as I keep my mouth shut, we should be fine."

Cas did that scrunched-up eyebrow frown thing, making Dean's stomach twinge, and said, "But what about..."

Dean tilted his head, trying to guess what Cas was thinking. "What about... what?"

"The journal," Cas whispered, as though that actually helped when everyone else in the room was listening intently.

"What journal?" Ron asked.

Dean sighed, "My dad's journal. He sent it to me, like, a week before he went rogue."

"And you didn't _mention_ it _once_?!" Jo cried. "Auror's journals can be pretty damn useful, in case you didn't know."

"I didn't want it to end up in the wrong hands, ok? Especially cause of what happened right after I got it, I wasn't gonna relay messages from my dad when I had enough people calling me an attention whore that week already."

"Sorry, Dean, I--"

"It's ok, Cas, I... well, it's probably time I told you guys about it anyway."

He pulled it out of his pocket and _engorgio_ -ed it back to its normal size, sitting down to read excerpts and explain what John knew about the Demons and their cult of dark magic. They pored over it for an hour when they should've been doing homework, and in the end they agreed that people needed to know the truth as well as how to defend themselves.

Decidedly, the next step was to start looking for like-minded students right away, with whom they'd have a first meeting on Saturday morning to find out whether or not they were alone in finding the given curriculum lacking.

Now was the time to prepare, since there was no knowing when they would get another chance.

~~~

Strangely enough, after all his outbursts and arguments, Dean found himself reluctant to blab about the Demons still being a threat and wanting to start a secret society to learn to fight them. The scar on his hand itched whenever he thought about telling someone to meet next weekend in the Transfiguration classroom. He was hoping the fear would stop by the time he had to stand in front of a group and tell them everything he knew; either that, or he hoped no one would show up.

Saturday arrived, and Dean and his friends went upstairs immediately after breakfast. He still hadn't gotten the courage to invite anyone, so just to make sure no one else had done the same, he asked Tessa how many people she guessed would come.

"Should be a couple," she shrugged, biting her lip. "Ron and I asked around a little bit, and a few people were interested. Scared, too, of course, so we think it should just be a small handful."

But the way she and Ron were glancing at each other, Dean didn't trust them one bit. Jo took her mother's usual seat and pretended she hadn't heard anything. Cas started rubbing a spot on the floor with his foot.

 _Some leaders_ , Dean thought. _Look at us, no one's gonna listen to a bunch of losers._

There was a raven with a white circular marking on the crown of its head, sleeping peacefully in a cage in the corner with its beak tucked under a wing. It's tail twitched, probably having nightmares of being transfigured into a goblet or something. Dean sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against the chalkboard to wait.

Then they started streaming in.

First to show up was Sam, dragging four second-year Ravenclaws and a Slytherin with him - Jess, Becky, Tyson, Max, and Ruby. Dean opened his mouth, but Sam was quicker. "Don't even think about telling me I'm too young, Dean. I'm not leaving."

He would've argued, but just then a few of Dean's Quidditch teammates walked in - all of them, actually. Garth came in last, but then he was followed by Demian and Barnes, who waved at Dean and tried to act cool. After them, a clump of Gryffindor girls including Lisa, Cassie, Nancy, and two second-years whose names Dean didn't know yet walked in. Just when Dean thought that would be it, half the Ravenclaw Quidditch team strode in and sat near the front (thankfully excluding Uriel), then a group of young Hufflepuffs squeezed in after them and hid in the back. Cas' Quidditch teammates came in as well and the room was practically bursting. Anna Milton and a Slytherin boy who looked Sam's age still managed to fit, however, followed lastly by a dazed-looking Ravenclaw who looked like she might've stumbled in on accident.

There weren't enough seats for everyone, so quite a few people were sitting on desks or leaning against the walls. Dean had never seen a classroom so packed.

"A _small handful?_ " he hissed at Tessa.

She shrugged innocently.

Everyone was staring expectantly at Dean, which he thought was odd since _Jo_ would be the one teaching them. He looked at Jo, which made several people look back and forth between them, until finally Tessa cleared her throat and stood up.

"So... thanks for coming, everyone. Um, just to make sure everyone's in the right place, we're here to talk about Defense Against the Dark Arts? And how we'd like to learn some proper magic, not that crap Professor Adler is trying to make us read."

There was a general consensus, though they were still glancing at Dean pretty frequently. It made his skin prickle. Only the wide-eyed, frizzy-haired Ravenclaw seemed to be paying him no attention at all, and he was still worried that she hadn't heard a single thing Tessa just said.

"Okay, good, we're all on the same page. 'Cause see," her voice grew more confident, "we want to learn how to defend ourselves, for real, not just theory... and, well, getting to cast some actual spells would be nice..."

"And passing our O.W.L.s," grumbled Tamara.

"Yes, definitely," Tessa agreed, "but more than that. We need to prepare ourselves for the real world, because..." and now she glanced at Dean, too, "because it's still not safe out there."

It was just as Dean had expected: an uptick in murmuring and a whole lot of staring straight at him.

Tessa rallied, "So we need to figure out how--"

"Where's the proof that the Demons haven't disappeared completely?" interrupted Christian Cambell. He and his twin sister Gwen glared up at Dean with frighteningly identical expressions, despite being fraternal twins.

Ron came to his defense, "Headmaster Shurley's been fighting the Bureau on this--"

"Only because of John Winchester," Gwen argued.

The young, black Slytherin boy spoke up, entwining his fingers, "I think we deserve to know why you think the Bureau is lying to all of us."

Dean clenched his jaw, staring back at the thirty or so students, and realized why they were really here. He raised an eyebrow at Rick, who had showed up even after he told Dean to his face that no one wanted to hear what he had to say. Obviously, that wasn't true.

As his answer, Dean pulled the journal out of his robes and dropped it on the teacher's desk in front of everyone. It made a satisfying, heavy, leathery _thunk_.

"Here's the proof. There's more info on Demons here than anywhere else combined. And you know what they want? _The end of humankind._ "

The raven in the corner ruffled its feathers and stuck its beak under the other wing. Doubtful expressions looked back at Dean, and a red-headed Hufflepuff asked timidly, "Is that your dad's?"

"Yeah, it is. He's been hunting these guys for almost twenty years, I think he's got some pretty reliable info."

"Or he made it up," Nancy grumbled.

"The Demons are out there!" Dean's voice rose over the dissenting voices and hushed them. "He's not the only one who's seen them! Ask other aurors, they've fought the black-eyed sons of bitches!"

A mousy-haired second-year Gryffindor girl scoffed, "Yeah, but it's been ages since anything's happened. That woman they found in Hogsmeade a couple years ago was just crazy, and she'd been that way for a while."

"But what about the dementor attack at the beginning of the year? Or the bitch who killed Jim two summers ago?" Sam argued, his voice hitching at the mention of Jim. Dean avoided his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Who's Jim?" one of Sam's Ravenclaw buddies asked.

Someone else spoke first, "And they said your dad sent those dementors--"

"He was framed!" Dean cried. "He was there to protect me and Sam, cause someone knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself away. It was a trap that the Demons planted, making sure some of our guys knew about it so our dad would be there to defend us then get caught on the sidelines."

There was a brief pause for everyone to contemplate this, but Anna spoke up, "But then he was caught in the Bureau Headquarters, like, the next day, wasn't he?"

"What was he looking for?" one of Cas' housemates demanded.

Dean should never have tried to argue his side. Even if they were here to listen to his wacky story, they were predisposed not to believe it. He huffed, "Of course, that's why you're all here. To find out what my dad's been up to? To hear what all my _outbursts_ have really been about?"

His entire audience exchanged guilty glances.

"Right. If that's so, you might as well leave. I don't know what the Bureau is hiding, or why they and the Demons want to frame my dad for their shit. Just believe me when I say, the Demons aren't finished with us yet. The war isn't over, the cult isn't falling apart from within. This is the quiet before the storm, and when it hits, we better be ready."

Nobody left their seats. They were totally quiet, staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably, then gestured for Jo to take the stage.

"Right," she stammered and took a step forward. "And... and we'll never be ready if our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher doesn't actually teach us anything."

There was a murmur of agreement, and Jo went on.

"I believe Dean and his dad. The war isn't over. I've had too many close calls myself to think that those guys are a disorganized, chaotic group of radicals. I don't know if anyone else has actually looked into solid black eyes, but I have. It's like... having a piece of cold metal suddenly touch your spine, and you _know_ , deep in your gut, that they're filled with dark magic. Everything human about them is gone, and what's left is pure anger."

She had them sitting on the edges of their seats.

"That's..." she took a deep breath, "That's what killed my dad. And there've been more since. I won't believe for a second that they're done for until I see every last one of them destroyed."

Jo sounded eerily like Professor Harvelle for a moment, which was probably why no one was talking back or arguing with her. Dean was a tad jealous.

Finally, someone raised their hand. Jo acknowledged him and he asked, "So what's your plan?"

She breathed in deeply - saving a scathing glance for Tessa and Ron who had been pestering her for days about lesson plans - and announced, "I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, in secret."

Even though she'd commanded their respect pretty damn well so far, she looked worried. She needn't be, however, since Sam and his Ravenclaw friends all exclaimed, "Yeah!"

"I mean," Sam cleared his throat, "Literally _anything_ beats Zachariah's teaching."

"Now we can hope to actually learn something," Jess agreed.

A Hufflepuff in the back burst out, "Could you teach us how to cast a patronus?"

That started a whole buzz of exclamations and questions, filling the room until Jo put her hands up and they fell silent. Yeah, Dean was _really_ jealous.

"It's not gonna be easy," she reminded them, "We have to keep everything secret from our _Chief Auditor_."

"No kidding," said Garth.

"I can't believe the Bureau is trying so hard to keep us from actually learning anything this year," Jess spoke as though it physically pained her.

Olivia nodded. "Not just that, but they've appointed someone to actively prevent us from using defensive spells, even though we've lived in fear of war for _years_."

"Well, they think Shurley is on his dad's side," Ron gestured toward Dean, "and that they both want to overthrow the government. So we think the Bureau wants to stop Shurley from building an army of students to rise up against them."

At first, it sounded like one of Ron's old crazy conspiracy theories, but based on the insane way the world turning, he might've actually been right.

A lot of people still looked doubtful, but Hester, Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain, reasoned, "Either way, this is just about the most important thing we'll do all year, even including our O.W.L.s, and we can't let Professor Adler find out."

That sleeping raven started coughing, which strangely sounded a lot like laughter.

Ron stood up suddenly and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Right, so before we agree on a time and place, I thought we should... should sign our names here. That way we r-remember who was here today and we know who to contact." He was talking fast and sweating a little bit, but he went on despite his nervousness, "And also... since we're all pretty sure that we shouldn't shout about our little group, if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Adler or anybody else what we're up to. Anyone who doesn't want to be a part of it can leave now, or you can stay and sign."

People exchanged glances, but no one left. The paper was passed around as each person wrote their name, including Dean, Cas, Tessa, Ron, and Jo, though it paused at Hester. "I-I mean, we are _prefects_ ," she hesitated, "and well, if Adler found out, and he got a hold of this list--"

"Do you think I'd just leave this thing lying around?" Ron challenged her, voice getting cold.

She shook her head, knowing as well as the others in their same year that Ron was as protective of his belongings as a mother dragon of her eggs.

Hester wrote her name and passed it on, and a heavy silence fell as soon as it was back in Ron's hands. Dean felt like he'd just signed some kind of contract.

Ron looked it over and nodded. "Okay, that's everyone."

"Awesome, well..." Jo shrugged, "we'll get in touch with you soon when we know a date and time that works for everyone, and let you know where to meet and everything."

"It can't conflict with our practice schedule," Gordon reminded her.

"Of course--"

"Nor ours," said Gwen, the captain for Hufflepuff.

Anna who was on the Slytherin team and the group of Ravenclaw Quidditch players also spoke up, to which Jo put up her hands and said, "We'll do our best to accomodate everyone's schedules, okay? Don't worry, we'll figure something out, and we'll start as soon as possible."

Chairs scraped and feet shuffled as people left in the groups with which they arrived. That strange, wide-eyed girl who hadn't spoken a word skipped out the door last, leaving Dean with the impression that she was playfully chasing invisible gnats.

"That actually went well," Tessa sighed when they were alone again.

Ron carefully put the list of names in his bag and Dean stepped forward to pick up his dad's journal from the desk, but he paused to look in the corner of the room. The raven wasn't asleep anymore, but staring at him with its beady left eye. But, then it flapped its wings and looked away while it readjusted its feet. Seemed like pretty normal bird behavior to Dean.

~~~


	9. Chapter 9

**_By Order of the Chief Education Auditor and Advisor of Hogwarts_ **

_All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are disbanded from this point forward._

_An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_To re-form, Students may Petition the Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor (Professor Adler)._

_No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor will be expelled._

**_The above is in accordance with Educational Directive Number Twenty-four._ **

_Signed:_

**_Zachariah G. Adler_ **

**_Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor_ **

 

The notice was posted in the common room the very next Monday morning, impossible to miss, and Dean read it with a sinking heart. All the cheerfulness of the weekend, lifted up by the fact that they'd finally be standing up to Dick-Face, was gone.

Ron muttered several swear words under his breath while he read it, finally concluding with, "Shit, he knows."

"I know."

"He _knows_ , knows," Ron insisted.

Dean repeated, "I know. There's no way he doesn't know."

"We have to tell Jo."

"Tell me what?" she asked, appearing at the bottom of the stairs from the girls' dormitories.

Rather than saying anything, the two boys parted to each side, giving Jo a framed view of the gigantic notice, so large that it covered the entire board and buried all other postings, printed in thick black letters and marked with an official F.B.M. wax seal at the bottom.

Her eyes darted across it and with every line her face contorted into a deeper and deeper scowl.

"We're gonna do it anyway, right?" she asked when she'd finished.

"Hell, yeah," Dean nodded.

"But how did that dick know about our meeting?" Ron demanded.

Jo turned her scowl toward the window, pondering that. "Someone must've ratted us out."

"We'd know if they did," Ron said in a low voice, shaking his head. "I jinxed that paper we signed, so if anybody tattles they'll be..." He made a gesture that looked like an impression of his face being attacked by a squid.

Dean squinted at him to try making sense of it, and when he couldn't, he asked, "Huh?"

"Let's just say the worst acne case's worst nightmare."

"We'd better go down to breakfast and see who's had a breakout, then," Jo suggested, heading toward the portrait hole.

The Great Hall seemed more frantic than usual, students scurrying up and down their tables to confer with the fellow members of their Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs. Obviously, Gryffindor wasn't the only house to have this notice posted.

Dean looked through the shuffling crowd and turned to Ron. "I don't see any spots so far."

"Here comes Cas and Tessa," Jo announced.

"Along with half of their house, as if that's not suspicious or anything," Ron murmured. He gestured at them frantically and mouthed the words, "Sit - back - down! Not you two, but the rest - go - back!"

Cas and Tessa arrived safely without their train of housemates and immediately started whispering frenetic questions.

"You saw it?"

"Does he know?"

"How'd he find out?"

"Shh!" Jo hissed. "We don't know, but it won't stop us."

Tessa grinned and said, "Glad to hear that, at least. Should we go tell the others?"

"Not all at once, we don't want to seem suspicious," Ron advised. "Wait til between classes if you have to."

All of a sudden, Gordon swept down on them and said in a low voice, "Guess what, girls, it gets worse. This little ban of his includes Quidditch. We have to _petition_ Adler to re-form the team."

Dean gaped at him. "Are you _serious?_ "

"Do I look like I'm not?"

No, Dean would've answered, Gordon was always serious. He gulped.

His captain pointed a finger at him and said in that slow, calm voice of his, " _Do not fuck this up._ "

Dean nodded. "I swear on Merlin's luscious, silvery chin-hairs that I'll behave myself."

Gordon turned to Jo, and in a much more pleasant tone, asked, "Is that other thing still happening, y'know, under the radar?"

"Yes," she said with a blush in her cheeks, "if you could tell everyone you see who was at the meeting, that'd be great."

"Sure thing." He left and Dean could swear Jo's eyes were tied to him with a string.

All through their morning classes, students were secretly conversing, some in frantic whispers, some in scribbled notes. Usually Dean could barely stay awake through History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts, his two dullest classes one after another, but the anxious activity was keeping him alert, reminding him of his own worries.

On the other hand, knowing that Jo was going to teach them in secrecy with or without the ban was making the trudge through _Defensive Magical Theory_ far more bearable. Every time Adler looked up and cleared his throat at anyone who wasn't staring down at their book, Dean smiled a little bit, thinking of how little control the man truly had over them.

In the afternoon, the fifth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs arrived in the Potions classroom to find Zachariah already perched in the back corner with his clipboard and quill, watching them take their seats. DuMort would definitely be a hard one to crack, Dean thought, glancing at the professor sitting at his desk in front of the chalk board. The man was finishing his pizza, giving no acknowledgement to the fact that there was an intruder.

The entire period was much this way, in fact. Professor DuMort's calm demeanor did not change once, and he may as well have been a brick wall that Adler could not crack, no matter how hard he tried. Much like Ellen's inspection, the direct questions were kept to a minimum.

Still, the presence of Dick-face made Dean tense and distracted, so that Cas had to save Dean's potion several times by stopping his hand before it dropped the wrong ingredient into the cauldron. Each time Cas' fingers grasped Dean's wrist, his stomach gave a sickening twirl.

Then there was Charms. When they arrived, it was clear that Professor Daniels was not having the best day, and her pointed ears kept twitching when she looked down at a sheet of parchment that was lying on the desk. Dean, who had a soft spot for her and didn't care that she had a blueish-green tint to the skin and a few scaly patches, asked about it when she was going around to individual tables to see how their silencing charms were going.

"It's nothing. Zachariah Adler has never liked having me on staff, and I don't care. My ability to teach is completely independent of my 'strange lineage,'" she spat.

"Wha--you got a bad review? But you're one of the best teachers in the whole school!" he protested.

"Thank you, that's very sweet," she said kindly. "I don't think it will make much difference, but I appreciate it all the same."

He couldn't believe his favorite teacher got less than a five-star rating, and it didn't help any of his urges to slam a fist into Adler's face. Half-mermaid, half-human, it shouldn't have made a difference when she had the qualifications. _If this is where the Bureau's going,_ he thought, _I'm fucking done._

~~~

The next day they had to do Care of Magical Creatures inside, postponing what could have been an interesting lesson on ashwinders, thanks to the torrential rain. That didn't stop Gordon from holding Quidditch practice, though, which he'd finally gotten permission to continue. Something about the Headmaster pointing out that he couldn't let three houses have Quidditch teams but not the fourth, written in some hundred-year-old rulebook, had forced the Chief Auditor to give in.

They trudged out into the field and got soaked within seconds. Dean showed everyone the _Impervius_ Charm to keep water off their faces, but even that didn't help much in this downpour. No one could see what anyone else was doing, so Dean hovered uselessly somewhere in north field wondering if the Quaffle would come his way. He barely managed to avoid a Bludger using the Sloth Grip Roll that Gordon had taught them, not that his captain saw a thing.

Gordon whistled for them to regroup on the ground and set the chasers to some tossing exercises that they'd done a million times before. Granted, it was a lot harder when they were almost blind, nearly deaf, and completely clumsy with a ball that was dripping wet and blowing about in the wind.

After being put through hell for forty minutes, Gordon finally gave up and let them change. Poor Garth looked like a wet, shivering orphaned kitten as he changed back into his regular robes. He was bruised and muddy from falling off his broom when the wind was so strong it could pick his tiny, lightweight figure into the air and drop him back down.

Dean was more grateful than ever that night to reach his warm, dry bed, and collapsed into it like a rag doll, going straight to sleep.

There was no improvement in the weather on the following morning, and Dean dreaded another grueling practice, but Gordon met them at breakfast and grumbled that he wouldn't be putting them through that again.

Jo let out a sigh of relief and said, "Good, then we'll be having our first meeting for the Defense Against the Dark Arts group tonight at eight."

After all, they couldn't conflict with other Quidditch practices if it was impossible to practice.

Gordon blinked, paused, then nodded, asking, "Where's it at?"

She explained, then asked him to tell the rest of the team since he'd be letting them know practice was cancelled anyway. Cas and Tessa headed over to the Hufflepuff table. Dean volunteered to tell Sam, who could then tell the other Ravenclaws, but he didn't exactly want to go near the Slytherin table and give Bela a chance to mock fainting one more goddamn time. Luckily, Sam's Slytherin friend had brought the other two of her housemates that were in the group to where Sam was sitting, so Dean was able to tell them all at once.

"...in a hidden room on the 7th floor across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy getting clubbed by those trolls."

Anna gasped, "Oh, you mean the Room of Requirement?"

"What, you-you've heard of it?" Dean stammered.

"Yeah, the house elves also call it the Come and Go Room. I've only used it once or twice..."

Dean gulped guiltily, then shrugged. "Right, well, we'll see you there."

As the night grew nearer, Dean couldn't help the joy that rose in his chest, and he could see it in the other students that were part of their group as well. The idea of sticking it to Professor Adler was just too appealing. Finally, the evening arrived and Dean and his friends went to the Base as usual, but this time they let Jo do the honors.

She paced in front of it three times and a double door appeared just as always, but they exchanged glances as Dean and Jo gripped the two handles, wondering what they'd find on the other side this time.

The room was a hundred feet long at least, and maybe three quarters as wide. They'd have plenty of space for spellwork, that was for sure. There were bookshelves lining every wall which Ron and Tessa investigated immediately, excitedly blurting out titles that sounded cool. Cas walked up to a dummy with a target on its chest and looked up at its blank, wooden face quizzically. Dean found a pile of cushions and sat on them.

Jo was still in the middle of the room, slowly turning in a circle to take it all in.

"This... is SO COOL," she shouted as a smile sprouted on her face.

Dean got up off his throne that had crumbled to the floor, then waved his wand to make the cushions fly toward the center of the room and form a full circle around Jo. That was when they recieved the first knock on the door.

In the students filed, coming in small groups and gradually filling up the seats. There were exactly as many cushions as there were people, Cas pointed out. This room really was magical.

The last straggler slipped inside two minutes after eight, and then Ron locked the door with a heavy _thunk_.

Jo stood staring at the large group sitting on cushions in front of her, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Before she could manage any sound, Tessa raised her hand. Jo sighed with relief and gestured for Tessa to speak.

"I think we should elect a leader."

"Isn't it Jo?" said the third year Hufflepuff with the red hair whose name Dean never caught in the first meeting.

"Right, but an election is all official, gives her authority."

Jo shrugged when Tessa looked at her. "Um... okay, shoot."

"Alright, show of hands, who votes for Jo as our leader?"

All hands went up. Dean thought about how he _was_ the one with his dad's journal, but still there was no question that Jo was the real leader.

She went on, "Well, so--yes, Tessa?"

Her hand was up again, and she said, "I also think we need a name."

There was a murmur around the room, and Garth immediately shouted out, "The Super Secret Demon Fighters!"

"Or the We-Hate-Adler Club," muttered Olivia.

Ron suggested, "Maybe something a little less obvious..."

"How about Charlie's Angels?" Dean threw out, and was met with lots of weird looks.

"What are Charlie's Angels?"

"Not that I mind, but also why are we naming this group after me all of a sudden?" the red-headed Hufflepuff spoke up again. Dean gave her a perplexed look, having never heard of a girl named Charlie.

Demian leaned forward. "Wait, guys, maybe instead of Charlie's we could be Chuck's, like the headmaster. I don't know about the angels part..."

"I've got it!" said Barnes, smiling at Demian. "Chuck's Army, or the C.A. for short. That's what the Bureau fears the most, isn't it? That's why they appointed Adler Chief Auditor in the first place."

Dean mumbled, "But Charlie's Angels are badass detectives."

Sam who was sitting right behind him sighed, "Then just pretend C.A. still stands for Charlie's Angels by yourself. No one else cares about your stupid TV show that got cancelled ages ago."

"It was totally unfair! People were accusing it of not having substance, but let me tell you, it had _substance_ \--"

"Ohhhhkay, all in favor of calling ourselves 'Chuck's Army'?" Tessa called out. She counted the hands that were raised and announced, "Majority rules - the C.A. it is!" She wrote CHUCK'S ARMY in big block letters across the top of the list with all their names on it which she took from Ron, then pinned it to the wall.

"Ok, so, business is done?" Jo checked with Tessa before moving on. "Alright, I thought I'd start us off with disarming. It doesn't sound like much, but _Expelliarmus_ can actually be really useful--"

" _Expelliarmus_?" asked Isaac Macey, one of the Ravenclaws. "I highly doubt that'll really help us when we're facing evil, dark wizards--"

"I've used it against them. It's saved my life, in fact."

Isaac's mouth snapped shut.

"Believe it or not, your opponent is a bit weaker without their wand, and a lot less deadly."

If there had been any doubts about Jo before, they were gone now. Dean wondered where Jo went around fighting all these Demons when her mom was so protective. He guessed it had something to do with her rebellious nature - just because her mom said she wasn't allowed, that usually didn't mean that Jo didn't do it anyway.

She had them space themselves out around the room and get into pairs. Dean claimed Cas right away, so Tessa and Ron made the other pair. Dean noticed Ruby attach herself to Sam before Jess had the chance, Charlie high-fived Anna and shouted, "Ginger Power!" then after a minute or so the only two left without partners were Garth and the dazed-looking Ravenclaw. Dean wondered how she managed to arrive at the right time and place when she appeared to have hardly any of her attention in the present.

Dean immediately regretted pairing with Cas when he realized what he would have to do.

Jo called out, "On the count of three, everyone... one, two, THREE!"

There were cries of " _Expelliarmus!_ " but Dean wasn't one of them. He felt his wand get flicked out of his hand and watched it spark as it hit a wall, then looked back at Cas who was smiling brightly at him like he'd won something.

"Having trouble, Dean?" asked Sam wryly. It looked like Ruby's spell had only managed to make his shaggy hair stick straight up, whereas Ruby was now struggling to reach a top shelf of one of the bookshelves where her wand had landed.

" _No_ ," Dean spat back, then retrieved his wand.

A tiny bit of his confidence came back as he looked around the room and realized how many missed spells had sent books or cushions flying, or had simply made their target jump back a step. Jo was correcting Cassie and Lisa about their wrist movements, then went to help Garth get untangled from his robes that had flown over his head when his partner tried to disarm him. She was staring at the ceiling now, oblivious.

"What's the matter with her?" Dean asked Sam when he came back.

"Who... Marion? Yeah, don't even ask."

"Ready, Dean?" Cas queried to get Dean's attention.

He pivoted forward and took his stance, determined not to be beaten this time. He nodded "Ready."

Cas smiled, which was actually a bit unnerving considering he was about to jinx Dean, then shouted, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

" _Expelli--_ aw, son of a..." Dean swore under his breath as he fetched his wand, once again having hesitated too long. It shouldn't have been that hard, especially since _Cas_ seemed to have no trouble at all disarming _him._

Jo came by and asked Cas how they were doing while Dean was on his way back. It was the perfect chance, so Dean pointed at Cas' hand hanging loosely by his side and said, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

His wand went flying toward Dean who caught it and jumped and punched the air. "HAH, gotcha!"

Cas and Jo looked over, seeming nonplussed.

"Um... good job, Dean," Jo encouraged half-heartedly, still disconcerted. "But, you probably wouldn't get an opening like that in a real fight. Let's see if you can do that when Cas is paying attention."

Dean gulped and gave Cas his wand back with a twist in his stomach. _You can do this_ , he argued with his brain. _You can jinx Cas, it's not that hard. It's not gonna hurt him._

Jo stepped back and crossed her arms. "On the count of three, ready? One, two..."

Both Cas and Dean went early, shouting _EXPELLIARMUS_ at the top of their lungs. Dean's wand went flying and hit the ceiling, but Cas was knocked backwards and thrown against a bookshelf, which wobbled with the impact.

"Woah, easy tiger!" Jo called out at Dean.

As soon as it hit him what just happened, he shouted, "Cas!" and ran over to help him up.

The boy was standing before Dean got there, though, and when he reached Cas he got a well-deserved punch in the arm. "I knew that you could do it, Dean," he chuckled, though he grimaced as he stretched his back.

"I could've hurt you!"

"Doubtful. Next time... focus on my wand."

Dean never did successfully disarm Cas in that session, but he did get faster at retrieving. He blamed it on Cas, expecting him to focus on spellwork when there was... everything else.

Nine o'clock came all too soon, and they had to start leaving in staggered small groups, the way they came. Jo, Ron, and Dean left last, letting the door seal behind them until they next needed it. Dean briefly wondered what the room became when no one was using it - if it was an empty janitor's closet or if it disappeared altogether.

After that first meeting, Jo didn't seem so nervous about teaching. She had members of their group approaching her between every class wondering when the next meeting would be, and she kept answering, "Soon, I hope." She also told the Quidditch players of the group to keep her apprised of their practice times, especially if they were cancelled due to weather.

They managed to have a C.A. meeting every week, always on a different day at a different time. Ron noted that having a random schedule would help prevent Adler from catching them. He also pointed out, during lunch on a day they'd decided to meet, that all these students who never talked before suddenly whispering in the halls in passing to communicate dates and times was probably beginning to look suspicious. They needed something inconspicuous, perhaps some kind of secret code...

"Or like communicators in Star Trek," Dean suggested. "Those would be handy. Beep-beep, Captain, we have encountered a small obstacle while attempting to communicate with the natives on this planet. What is it, Spock? They have a game that they play on flying broomsticks that seems to prevent them from wanting to speak with us. Sounds like a problem -everything's under control up here, I'll put Sulu in charge of the bridge and come help you out. Thank you, Captain. Kirk out," Dean imitated, speaking into imaginary communicators and switching hands each time he switched voices.

Everyone at the table was giving him a strange look, except for Cas who was simply bemused. Then his eyes brightened up and he grabbed Dean's arm, asking, "I know it's N.E.W.T.-level, but can you perform a Protean Charm?"

"I..." Dean blinked at him. "Yeah, why?"

"I have an idea. See you later, Dean."

Cas ran off again, and Dean looked back at the others and shrugged. As much as it annoyed him, he was starting to get used to it.

When classes were done for the day and they met at the base to do some homework before dinner, Cas showed up again and dragged Dean away to the library, insisting he had something good. He led them to a secluded corner, where he pulled out a jangling pouch that he dumped on the table before realizing that it'd make a loud noise.

"Shh--Cas!--ah, fuck, too late," Dean groaned. He heard the clack of heels as Mrs. Willer approached, having some sort of sonar locator imbedded in her brain.

Cas winced, but continued to take a stack of books out of his bag and put them next to the coins, apparently ignoring Dean. When the librarian rounded the corner he stood up to face her.

She hissed, " _What_ in Merlin's name--"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Willer, my mistake," he answered softly, "I dropped them."

"Dropped an entire bag of coins in the _library_ , young man, I'll have you out!"

"Please, ma'am, it's for study and we won't make _any_ more noise. We have to examine them."

She paused, looking Cas up and down. "If I catch you flinging those things against the walls, you're both kicked out. But... as long as _examining_ means quiet, I'll give you one more chance."

"Thank you," Cas sighed with relief, while she turned on her heel and disappeared.

"What was that for?" Dean asked when Cas sat back down. "You couldn't just open the bag nice and slow?"

He opened the book at the top of his pile, and bit his lip. "Sorry, too excited. Dean, look."

Pointing at a passage, Cas turned the book around and showed Dean. The writing was small and slanted, but he made out:

_Throghout historie,_ _ʃome have founde uʃe for the unuʃual Protean Charme aʃ a meanʃ to imparte ʃecretʃ. A ʃpell to maketh the ʃhape and forme of an object eaʃily ʃubject to change, it can alʃo maketh ʃuch change appeare onne duplicate objectʃ._ _Such ʃtrategie waʃ uʃed by the ʃorcerer Courbette, in battle with the Houʃe of Morton. When the enemie blockéd Courbette from hiʃ allieʃ in Zeddemoore, he enchanted hiʃ locket, ʃhared by hiʃ lover in that other kingdom, to convey hiʃ whereaboutʃ. He waʃ killed before hiʃ allieʃ could reache him, but it waʃ a valiante effort._

Dean shrugged. "So?"

"So..." Cas huffed, "that is my idea! We can use bronze knuts as they're far more numerous and as Ron said, inconspicuous."

The gears finally clicked, and Dean widened his eyes at Cas, grinning. "Dude, you're awesome! How's it work?"

"The numbers on the side," Cas scooted closer, giving Dean's stomach a jolt, and held up a coin to point them out, "are the code to make each coin unique. These are all the same because I copied them from this original." He pulled a different coin out of his inside robe pocket, then slid it back in. "Jo can change hers to a date and time, then all the others will see it!"

Dean licked his lips, contemplating the spell. "The communicators chirp when they need to talk. So, maybe the coins could... buzz? When they change?"

Cas tilted his head. "If they _buzz_ in class..."

"Right. So, something not audible."

They both leaned back in their chairs, putting their hands in their pockets to think. Dean picked up one of the counterfeit knuts off the table and turned it over in his fingers, then put it in his pocket to imagine the ways he could notice it changing when he wasn't looking. It could get heavier perhaps, but not so heavy that it started pantsing people... or it could...

"I've got it!" Cas whispered, " _Heat_."

Dean snapped his fingers and sat up straight again. "Yes! They'll, uh, glow warm for a sec when the change happens! So people gotta keep these on them at all times, plus we don't want 'em losing the things anyway."

"Right. Exactly. Okay, do you think you can do it?"

There was the real question. Dean took a deep breath and answered, "You betcha."

The thing was, he'd only ever _read_ about the Protean Charm, he hadn't actually cast one before. It was in his extra Charms work Ms. Daniels gave him only a couple of weeks ago. But, he had to give it a try, and he knew the incantation. He might as well.

Cas pulled the original coin back out of his pocket, handing it to Dean. The other thirty-something knuts were spread out on the table, lying flat, and Dean gulped.

"Uh, right. Okay. Easy-peasy, N.E.W.T.-level spell, here I come," he muttered, readying his wand. He wasn't sure if it would ever be ready. Then again, now would be a good time, as Cas was starting to give him that funny look.

Steeling himself, Dean raised his wand in the motion he'd seen in the instructional illustration, concentrating on the coin and its connection to the others. It had to be just right, focused, powerful. " _Proteum_ ," he spoke in a low, firm voice.

It seemed nothing had happened. Dean stayed perfectly still but turned his eyes to Cas, whose gaze was darting back and forth between Dean and the coins in anticipation. A moment passed before he started just staring at Dean, quizzically.

Suddenly, the coin in Dean's hand grew warm and the whole lot faintly glowed orange for a moment before fading.

Cas gasped softly, then let out a breathy chuckle. "It worked!"

Dean's arms and ribs felt tingly when Cas spoke, and his face felt warm from the look of pride the boy was giving him.

"That was... impressive!" Cas smiled widely as he put his hands on Dean's shoulders.

_Now is a good a time as any to just kiss him..._

Dean smiled back and laughed nervously, stepping to one side and hoping to make an escape that could just made him seem like he was being modest. Unfortunately, the side he stepped _to_ was already inhabited by the table, and he both stubbed his toe and bumped into its side with a force like he'd been trying to run away at full tilt. The legs scraped the stone floor with a screech and half the coins flew over the edge and scattered, clanging on the flagstones.

When the sound died, there was a moment of utter silence in which Dean felt excruciating pain, then there was the sound of Mrs. Willer's shoes coming back for vengeance.

Cas snatched up the pouch and started trying to scoop up the coins by hand, but Dean, still bending over and hopping on one foot, flicked his wand with an incantation and sent all of them whizzing back in place at once. They each picked up their bags and blew straight past Mrs. Willer toward the exit.

When they were several hallways away, they stopped and leaned against a wall, panting and laughing.

"Let's not... do that again..." Dean suggested between breaths.

"I agree. Upsetting the librarian is... not wise."

They exchanged grins, causing Dean's stomach to flutter even as he was still trying to catch his breath. "Wanna show everybody our cool new communicators?"

"Must you name everything after something from television?"

"You betcha," he nodded, making Cas laugh. Dean pictured the sound filling up the air with pure light before he realized how ridiculous and cheesy that sounded. He cleared his throat. "Well, then, let's get to it."

They handed out the coins at the meeting that night, getting several approving nods and even a few whistles. Dean noted, "So, if Dick-Face makes you empty your pockets, there's nothing weird about carrying around a coin - you can just say it's your lucky knut."

Garth and several others stifled a giggle, and Dean cracked a grin.

"What if we accidentally spend it?" asked Gwen, raising her hand while she spoke.

Dixon scoffed, "Yeah, like we're allowed to go to Hogsmeade anymore. What're you gonna spend it _on?_ "

"Regardless," Cas assuaged the situation, "I put a dot of ink on the back of the original before I copied it. That way, you should be able to tell this one apart."

"Did you make these?" Hester asked, sounding impressed.

Cas shook his head. "I made the fake coins, but _Dean_ did the Protean Charm."

All eyes turned on Dean. It would have been a perfect moment for crickets.

Then, several fifth-years cracked, busting up with laughter at the very thought. Dean laughed along and returned Cas' puppy-dog eyes of, "But it's true!" with a shrug saying, "It's okay, man."

He patted Cas on the back and chuckled, speaking to the crowd, "Just doesn't wanna take the credit, do you, Cas? He's just shy."

"I-I'm not..."

"I'm gonna test them, just to be sure," Jo announced, taking a step forward. She tapped her wand on the master coin, then after a moment Dean felt the one in his hand get warm. She added, "It should say November twenty-first, seven p.m."

Everyone checked, and indeed, they were all correct. Dean's insides did a gleeful fist-pump that it _actually worked_ , while he gave Cas a smile and another pat on the back. After all, it was Cas' idea _._

~~~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on writing/drawing an original comic, so the gaps between posts will be long again, sorry guys. I just can't dedicate a whole lot of my time to this fic right now, but it's not over! Stay tuned.

Barely three blissful weeks of rebellion swept by when suddenly November was upon them and it was time for the first Quidditch match - Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. First of all, it turned out that the Slytherins replaced their old seeker - Balthazar, who graduated - with none other than Bela Talbot. Secondly, she gave them renewed gusto when it came to taunting the Gryffindor team and its members. Every Slytherin who passed Dean in the hall did a fainting act, and afterward made some comment to Jo like, "It should be pretty easy to score goals past your keeper if she gets knocked out by her own team." They frequently warned others on the team to watch out for her club, loudly and within earshot.

Worst of all was how they taunted Garth. "If your broom is twice your height, does it still fly?" "I hope you booked your bed in the hospital wing, Fritz." "While you're there, maybe you can ask Madam McClellan for a bone-growing solution."

Garth would scoff loudly and attempt to brush them off, but as soon as he was turned away, Dean could see his face turn a pale sort of green. "It's _Fitzgerald_ ," he'd mutter, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The first time Dean witnessed this, he made the mistake of walking over to Garth and patting him on the back to comfort him. From that point forward he was Garth's best friend of all time, and Garth was his unremovable 'personal bodyguard' (his words). It made Cas giggle, saying Dean had a duckling.

On the day of the match there was sleet and wind and mud, almost as bad as some of the storms they had to practice in for all of October. Gordon affirmed that this was a good thing because these were familiar conditions, but it still didn't improve anyone's mood.

Dean looked over at Jo at breakfast, and felt like he was viewing a mirror to the past. In retrospect, he probably had the exact same pale, panicked expression on his first game day. "Eat," he urged her just like she had urged him a year ago.

"I don't think I can," she muttered, shaking her head and turning sort of yellow.

"Doesn't matter, you _have_ to eat. Them's the rules."

Jo gave him a pitiful glare, then half-heartedly scooped up a spoonful of cereal and stuck it in her mouth, saying, "Yhou happhy nah?"

"Chew and swallow."

He risked being smacked in the head, but all he got was more glaring as she did what he asked. She swallowed hard, forcing it, then grumbled, "You're not my mother."

"And thank god for that."

At last, that weaseled a smile out of her, and she finished the bowl of cereal.

Dean wasn't _too_ worried about the game himself. The opposing team had a mix of really excellent and really terrible flyers, and Dean could already see that they didn't all get along. Anna and Jake, chaser and beater respectively, actively and visibly avoided the rest of the team outside of practice, though neither of them mentioned anything about it in C.A. meetings. Dean doubted Bela had gotten the seeker position by talent, whereas Jake had been allowed to join the team as a first year, back at the beginning of Dean's fourth.

Gryffindor, on the other hand, seemed fairly well-knit. At least, Dean and the other chasers made an imposing unit, Olivia was her usual wonderful self, and Gordon was a scary monster on the playing field. Jo's aim was improving, but she always tried too hard and ended up getting herself in a bind, like going after the Bludger before realizing she was sticking herself in the path of two oncoming players. She didn't pay enough attention to the whole picture, which was kind of necessary for a beater. Dean hoped she wouldn't be thrown off when there were twice as many players in the stadium than she was used to.

And Garth was a whole different matter. He had a big head on top of that tiny body, so he always took dangerous risks despite his flying abilities not being all that strong. Sometimes he got lucky and wrapped his hand around the snitch before he crash-landed, but other times he didn't.

In the locker room before the match, Dean was questioning whether he really should have made Jo eat that cereal after all. Garth, on the other hand, was so wound up with excitement that he twitched, making Dean speculate if someone had accidentally given him a shot of espresso. His too-baggy Quidditch robes made him look even more ridiculous, like a hyperactive puppy that hadn't yet grown into its skin.

Gordon looked over his team and checked his watch. "Five minutes, guys, time to go out. Let's _kill_ those bastards."

A chill ran down Dean's spine as it almost sounded like Gordon meant it, literally. Dean wouldn't put it past him.

Mr. Panowski called the captains to the middle of the soaking field for the handshake, which would've turned into a mud-wrestling match had it gone on any longer. The referee pulled Gordon and Raphael apart, sending them back to their separate sides of the pitch.

At last, he blew the whistle, and the players kicked off the ground and into the thundering sky.

Dean steeled himself against the freezing rain, at least grateful that _Impervius_ gave him an advantage over the opposing team. Dixon got the Quaffle first and passed it to him, so he raced down toward Slytherin's goal posts, vaguely listening to the commentary that shouted his name. It sounded like--

"Davis and Brown are bearing down on Winchester now, Gryffindor _better_ stay in possession... Dean passes to Rick Stacey - nice move!" Charlie cheered into the megaphone. "Dropping the ball straight down when you're pinned on both sides, that is _classic_!"

Smiling a little to himself, Dean spared a glance up at the podium to watch her dramatic narration for a moment. He only had a moment, though, as he dodged a Bludger from Jake not two seconds later. The boy shrugged at Dean as if to say, "Sorry, I'm not sorry."

He regained focus on the Quaffle and within another two minutes, sent the ball through the enemy's left hoop, barely brushing past Raphael's extended fingers. Charlie whooped and congratulated him while the Slytherin captain cursed Dean's luck - which might have actually worked, as Dean was soon to find out.

In the middle of a pass that Dean was supposed to catch, a group of hooded figures walked onto the field and he could swear there was a blast of cold air right then, pelting him with ice-cold drops of water. It made him veer off course and miss the Quaffle, allowing Slytherin's chaser Gil to swoop it up and pass to Anna.

Dean couldn't believe everyone else was ignoring the newcomers, who crept toward the center of the pitch and sent a chill down Dean's spine.

"Looks like Winchester's attention is somewhere else," Charlie's voice rang in his ears, "You just missed another pass, doofus!"

Jo sailed past him and shouted, "What the hell?!"

He realized he'd been hovering and staring for at least a full fifteen seconds, but he was frozen to the spot. Finally, he pointed a finger at the figures down below and her eyes widened with recognition. She pulled out her wand at once and shrieked, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A silvery cloud bore down on the hooded figures and they stumbled back, accidentally trodding on their too-long robes, which was when Dean finally noticed something was off about them. One of their hoods fell down and Dean recognized Gertrude, Bela's number one fan.

"Looks like some Slytherins have invaded the pitch to play tricks!" Charlie called out, "Not sure if that's technically foul play, but it sounds pretty dirty to me... Woah, Slytherin just scored! Looks like Miss Milton took the Quaffle while everyone's attention was elsewhere - sorry Gryffindor but that was a nice move, there, by Anna."

Dean glanced up, and sure enough Charlie was giving the red-headed Slytherin a huge wink that Dean could see through the rain, which thinned momentarily as one cloud passed and another was on its way.

Panowski blew his whistle for time out while he ushered the fake dementors off the field. Charlie kept the crowd occupied by discussing why gingers are better than everyone else, and the two teams huddled back on the ground.

"We're ten-ten," Gordon reminded them, "and we'd be ten-zero if you hadn't let those hooligans distract you, Dean."

"What?!" he protested, "I--"

"We can't afford to let your fears get in the way of--"

"Hey!"

"--winning. They know our weaknesses, and they'll use them. Now let's get back in there and crush this match."

Dean was flustered after being blamed for letting an event that held up the entire game distract him. But as much as he wanted to argue, the game had to go on.

The whistle blew and once again he gritted his teeth against the sleet that had long since soaked through his robes. Within five minutes, his team managed to score another goal but with no help from Jo who meant to hit Tracy Davis but instead managed to knock the Quaffle right out of Dean's hands, after which it bounced off Gil Brown's head and was taken back by Dixon. Charlie had a hell of a time narrating _that_ one.

Half an hour in, they were sixty to ten. Poor Anna had to work with those two dimwits who were never where she needed them. She'd taken to grabbing the Quaffle and racing for the Gryffindor posts, but it was hard to get there when it was basically three against one - and even if she did reach the other end, nothing could get past Olivia.

The only question now was how long it would take for the seekers to end the game. Part of Dean hoped they'd wait until Gryffindor was up a hundred and sixty points, so they could win with or without Garth being the one to catch it. Confidence had leaked out of him bit by bit as he saw that Bela was actually decent on a broomstick, or at least a lot better than Garth who skitted around like an uncontrolled leaf on the wind. Maybe Fritz wasn't such a bad nickname after all...

Eighty-ten. The crowd roared - and unrelated, Charlie commented on Jo's strong biceps.

Somehow everyone failed to notice the pair of seekers now flying neck-and-neck, both having spotted the snitch at the same time. They were already into a steep dive by the time Charlie shouted, "Oh look, the snitch!" to which everyone's heads finally turned.

There was no way Garth was capable of pulling out of that dive at the last second, so he prayed the boy wouldn't try. His and Bela's hands reached out for the golden ball in sync, then they were only thirty feet from the ground... twenty... fifteen...

Suddenly Garth was thrown to the side and tumbled head over broom-tail at the same time Bela closed her fist and pulled herself out of the dive no more than eight feet off the ground. She soared up over the Slytherin section with the snitch held aloft, deafening cheers surrounding her. Nobody but Dean watched as Garth lost all control and his broom slipped out from under him, sending him sliding sideways through the mud for ten feet.

He ignored the crowd's screaming, even audible over the thunder that just rumbled in from the other side of the forest, and the frustrated cries of his teammates; Dean leaned forward on his broomstick and sped toward Garth, landing with a squelch. He dropped his broom, bent down, and stretched out his hands to help the boy up.

"It's okay kid, you almost had her," Dean consoled him, patting him on the back when he'd returned to his feet.

Garth hiccuped in response, then Dean realized his eyes were red and puffy from crying, though the rain rinsed off his tears.

Maybe it was the fact that this kid was Sam's age, but Dean had an inexplicable urge to dry him off and serve him hot cocoa. For now, he settled on pulling Garth in for a hug and letting him sob into his already soaked uniform.

"Shh, it's okay, man. That bitch has foul play written all over her. You know Bela? I bet you don't know her like I do, and she is one seriously black-hearted chick. One time, I called her a psycho and she broke up with me. And this other time in first year, she and Jo got in a cat fight and pulled each other's hair out."

He didn't know if the babbling was helping since Garth hadn't stopped shaking, though that may have actually been the fact that they were soaked to the bone and freezing.

Garth pulled away and sniffed, wiping his face with his wet sleeve and staring at his feet sinking into the mud. Dean gave him another pat, now on the shoulder, and looked up to find the dejected Gryffindor team approaching. No one spoke a word.

Over where the Slytherins were gathered, some of Bela's friends hoisted her up onto their shoulders so she could parade the snitch around the stadium, heading toward the losing team first. They all groaned when they saw the oncoming taunts. All Dean wanted to do right then was get out of the rain.

He might've turned away and done just that, had he not suddenly perked up his ears and heard what the Slytherins had been chanting since the game ended. He froze.

There was an awful lot of background noise so Dean couldn't quite be sure he'd heard correctly until Bela and her posse got closer. She was punching the air with her hand that was holding the snitch while shouting at the top of her lungs, "Fritz! Fritz! Fritz!"

"Oh god," Olivia muttered, standing next to Dean.

There was no way Garth still hadn't heard it. He looked up from the ground and gave them as menacing a glare as he could manage. It wasn't much.

"FRITZ! FRITZ!" they jeered, still getting closer.

"Cut it out!" Dean yelled back.

Bela grinned and hopped down from her throne, replying, "Oh, come on darling, we have you to thank! We would never have won without our Fritz!"

Garth somehow managed to shrink even more, wrapping his arms tightly against his midsection and hunching over. They'd tear him to pieces if no one stood up for the poor kid, and Dean bristled at the thought.

"That's just low, hitting a man while he's down!" he growled, "But you're right about one thing. You NEVER would've won. If you hadn't gotten lucky, any seeker in the universe could've beaten you!"

"Tsk, tsk, are you _really_ that protective, Dean? Well, only _you_ could've believed in a seeker like _him_."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, he reminds me of your brother, that poor, defenseless kid--ooh, touchy are we?"

Olivia had grabbed Dean's robes to hold him back, hence Bela's last comment.

"No one talks shit about MY BROTHER!" Dean bellowed.

"Socially awkward, maybe mentally not all there..." she listed, to which Dean thrashed against Olivia's hold. "You don't think so, Lowry?" Bela inquired, "Or perhaps you don't mind the company of the disabled, probably reminds you of home..."

A red-robed fury flew past Dean and went straight for Bela, and suddenly there was no one holding him back anymore. He ran ahead and joined Olivia in pummeling Bela to the ground, wrestling in the mud and digging in elbows everywhere he could, getting a bloody lip from Guy Odom who came to Bela's defense.

Somewhere, a whistle blew repeatedly, people were yelling, the crowd was still roaring, and Dean did not give a single fuck. Causing Bela and any other one of her cronies who got in his way all amounts of pain was the only thing he cared about, that was until he was blasted backward by magical force and landed on his back with a painful thud.

"--UNSPORTSMANLIKE, UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR," shouted Panowski, or at least that was the bit that Dean heard when his ears started working again. "WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?!"

He looked at Olivia, who seemed just as dazed as he felt. She'd obviously gotten hit by that spell as well, and was sitting on the ground just a few feet away from him.

"Those two ATTACKED me!" Bela cried, wiping a bloody nose, courtesy of Olivia.

It sounded like Dixon, shouting from behind him, "They were provo--"

"This is uncalled for!" the referee fumed. "I have never seen such abominable behavior, you will both go straight to your head of house's office. NOW!"

Dean and Olivia flinched at the temper in his voice, then rose to their feet and stomped toward the castle without a word. The howling of the crowd eventually died down, until they were far enough away that all they could hear was their panting breath, the pounding of rain on gravel, and the occasional distant roll of thunder.

They tracked loads of mud into the castle, but they didn't even care - partly because Bobby's office wasn't that far to walk, and partly because they'd lost the ability to care about anything somewhere around the second punch.

Bobby came storming down the hall from the pitch after they'd made a sizeable puddle outside his office door, not speaking as he led them inside and sat down. He looked at each of them and spread his hands out on the desk, but only continued to breathe heavily, apparently at a loss for words.

Dean got sick of the awkward silence and started, "Bela provoked--"

"Of _course_ she provoked you!" Bobby shouted, his voice bouncing harshly off the stone walls. After the silence, it almost seemed like he rang louder than the crowd in the Quidditch pitch. "I don't give a crap what Bela said, but to start a fight like some sore losers, let alone team up on another student, that's just downright stupid! Do you idjits have any idea--"

" _Ahem._ "

Dean felt an unpleasant tingling sensation in the back of his head, knowing all too well who had just arrived. He turned around and saw Zachariah in his primly robes, barely flecked with droplets of water. He had a large, black umbrella that swung at his side as he fiddled with the handle.

"May I assist?"

Bobby's eyebrows went up. "Assist?"

"I thought perhaps you might be able to use a little extra... authority." He grinned at the word, like it pleased him immensely.

"Well, you thought wrong," Professor Singer barked. "As for you two, that was the sorriest display I've seen at this school in my entire life. I'm giving each of you at least a week of detention, and no Dean, it won't just be flobberworms this time--"

"Ah, excuse me," Zach interrupted, making Bobby snap his mouth shut and, with great pain, turn his glare back up toward him. "I think their punishment ought to be a little more than detention."

"Right. When I want your input, I'll ask for it. These students are in _my_ house, after all."

The man's smile tightened. "Actually, Robert, I'm giving my input whether you want it or not. You see, Michael - I mean, the Head of the Bureau, of course - sent me this little document just this morning." He pulled a crisp piece of parchment from the inside of his robes and read aloud, "'Educational Directive Number Twenty-Five'--"

"Another one?!" Bobby cried.

"Indeed, my dear friend, it was you who made me realize its necessity. When I wished to prevent the Gryffindor team from re-forming, which obviously would have saved poor Bela a beating, it was you who took the matter to Headmaster Shurley, by whom I was overruled. Now, I couldn't allow that. The Bureau agreed, as you will see as I read this... _ahem_... 'The Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Michael Milligan, Head of the Federal Bureau of Magic.' So, you see, I think what these kids _really_ deserve is a permanent ban from Quidditch at Hogwarts."

" _What?!"_ cried Dean and Olivia in unison.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester and Miss Lowry, you will be banned from playing ever again."

Bobby's face was livid, but he didn't speak. Dean was screaming inside, wondering why Bobby wouldn't defend him, why he didn't speak up now before it was too late.

No more Quidditch? _Ever?!_ Dean would be miserable for the rest of his life!

"I am also confiscating their brooms, to make absolutely certain that they don't _infringe_ upon this ban. As for the rest of the team, they are perfectly welcome to continue playing, as none of _them_ resorted to violence."

Dean noticed his jaw was hanging open, and closed it. He never thought he'd miss his measly old comet inherited from Jim so much; now it felt like his life force was being ripped away.

"Well... Good day," Professor Adler finished with a swish of his umbrella and sauntered back out of the office, whistling a happy tune.

~~~

" _Shit._ "

"It's the truth."

"How will we survive without Olivia?" cried Dixon, "You're irreplaceable!"

Gordon repeated, " _Shit_."

"Not that _you're_ not irreplaceable, Dean, it'll never be the same without you but--"

"It's okay, Dixon, I know what you mean."

" _Shit._ "

"How could he do this to us?" Olivia slammed her fist on the table for the third time that evening. "And it's my last year, and I'll never have another chance to play!"

Gordon looked up from his painful reverie and said, "Are you kidding? When you graduate there's not a team in the country that wouldn't take you."

She blushed and looked at the faces of everyone around her that were all nodding in agreement. "Really?"

"Best keeper I've ever seen, hands down," Gordon affirmed, but shook his head sadly, "Which is why it hurts so much more that we have to put in someone else."

"Hear, hear," Dixon agreed.

Dean looked over at the other side of the common room, where Garth was sitting alone, curled up in a ball on one of the comfy chairs. Dean's bones were still working on thawing out, but he knew cold wasn't the only reason the kid was keeping himself wrapped up so tightly.

He was sick of the others' conversation anyway, so Dean got up and brought a blanket to Garth's chair and kneeled in front of him. "Hey, kid," he said as he placed the blanket over Garth's shoulders. "If I could conjure up some hot chocolate, I would..."

"You don't have to," he said in a small, croaky voice, wiping his eyes before looking up at Dean.

"I don't have to what? Offer you hot chocolate?"

"Feel sorry for me," he sniffed.

"You think this is sympathy?" Dean inquired.

Garth shrugged.

"Here's the thing," Dean sighed, "In all o' that crap Bela said, there was one thing that kinda struck a chord."

Now his eyes widened with interest.

"That part about you and my brother, bein' similar. Well, you're not _that_ similar, in looks or attitude or personality or anything, really... that's not the point, the point is, I get... kinda protective. So when people start beating up on people I care about, I fight back 'cause I care about them."

For a second, Dean thought Garth was gonna burst into more tears, but instead he flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, almost strangling him. Dean smiled and patted him on the back, feeling like the day was just one huge, emotional roller coaster.

"So, whaddya say we go down to the kitchens and get some o' that hot chocolate after all?"

~~~


	11. Chapter 11

Late November brought drifts of snow, then December came with blinding sunlight and bitter cold. Students flooded the grounds for snowball fights during breaks, though Dean and all the other fifth years could enjoy none of it. They spent all their hours inside, buckling down and toiling against their mountain of homework, which had done nothing but gotten bigger as they neared the midpoint of the term.

Some buzz started breaking out about the annual Yule Ball, but was suddenly snuffed out when yet another notice was posted, once again covering the entire board in the Gryffindor common room.

**_By Order of the Chief Educational Auditor and Advisor of Hogwarts:_ **

_All Celebratory Gatherings, Parties, Shindigs, Balls, and Social Events are prohibited from this point forward._

_A Celebratory Gathering, Party, Shindig, Ball, or Social Event is hereby defined as a body of three or more students in the act of festivity, jollification, merriment, or revelry which distracts from all school-related subjects and which may include sinful behavior or rule violation._

_Any student found to have planned, made arrangements for, or participated in a Celebratory Gathering, Party, Shindig, Ball, or Social Event will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with **Educational Directive Number Twenty-Six.**_

Dean didn't even care much for the Yule Ball, which he saw as an excuse for girls to dress up and guys to make fools of themselves, but he slammed his hand against the wall all the same. "This guy is fucking crazy! This means we can't have parties in the common rooms after Quidditch matches, either, doesn't it? Next he's gonna ban students from _having_ _fun!"_

Jo was still looking at the notice, her shoulders slumping and a pout on her lips. "And all this time I was hoping..." she sighed heavily, "Never mind."

Now, rather than being about who would ask whom this year, the chatter in halls between classes was about where the illegal subsitute parties were going to take place on the night of the would-be Yule Ball. In the first C.A. meeting after the latest decree, Sam's friend Becky raised her hand and suggested to Jo, "Can we have our own party? Like, as our last meeting before break?"

Jo's eyebrows went up, and then a smile broke out on her face. "Absolutely! That's actually an _excellent_ idea, show of hands in agreement?"

Just about every hand went into the air.

"Awesome, that's settled then!"

Dean grinned over at Cas, moving his arms and torso in a tiny imitation of dancing. Cas rolled his eyes and looked back toward Jo, and out of the corner of Dean's eye he caught Sam and, well... several other people rolling their eyes as well. What? He could act silly if he wanted. Nothing wrong with silly. And that moment was supposed to be shared with _Cas_ , not the whole group.

 _Then don't do it in front of the whole group, doofus_ , Dean thought, imitating Charlie's voice in his head.

~~~

On the night of the party, Caretaker Frank Devereaux and Professor Adler prowled the halls in search of illicit soirees, checking every classroom and secret passage. But of course, everyone knew that, so they never stayed in one room long enough to get caught. The C.A. had the Room of Requirement to their advantage, however, so they had the whole afternoon and night to spend without a single threat to their merriment.

When they first arrived, the room decked itself out with lights and Christmas ornaments, in imitation of the Yule Ball. Jo taught an hour reviewing everything they'd learnt so far, from disarming to shields to knockback hexes and confundus charms, but then she announced that session was officially over and the party: BEGUN.

Demian and Barnes ran out momentarily then came back with six bottles of firewhiskey - how they obtained it, no one knew. Charlie snagged some pies from the kitchen, saying her friend Winky made them. However Charlie became friends with a house elf, Dean didn't question it.

The room had also provided them with a record player and a selection of tunes, some of which even delighted Dean. Deep Purple's "Machine Head" was in the stack which Dean put on immediately, to everyone's trepidation at first, though ten seconds later _no_ one could resist rocking out.

Either Cas was humoring him or Dean's music tastes had finally rubbed off on him, but the pair were soon headbanging and dancing spastically in the center of the room, encouraging people to join in.

Charlie was the first to jump on the bandwagon, shouting over the noise, "Highway Star is TOTALLY my dad's FAVORITE SONG OF ALL TIME!"

"HELL YEAH IT IS!" Dean shouted back. "MUGGLE MUSIC IS THE BEST!"

At the end of the album, Dean switched it to Top 80's Disco Hits, which he hated to admit were the best songs for dancing by far. As soon as he put down the needle, it was like someone flipped a light switch; a disco ball came down from the ceiling and the christmas lights started to shine moving, colored patterns on the floor. The entire room cheered and students started jumping up and down to the new beat of the music.

Hours that felt like minutes later, Dean flopped to catch his breath on one of the couches the room had provided, lining the walls. Cas flopped next to him and put his sweaty head in Dean's lap, laughing and still slightly tipsy.

"Who knew, Cas... who knew... that dancing was so much fun. And that you're so fuckin' good at it, man. Work... it."

"Mmm," Cas hummed and smiled. "Mmmmmhmmmm."

They lay there panting with their limbs splayed out for quite some time, coming down from their party highs and slowly sobering up. Cas had more firewhiskey than him, he had to concede, but most of it had gone to Gordon, Dixon, and Olivia who were still competing at shots.

A while later, Dean started ruffling Cas' hair which was drying out but still a complete mess. Dean fully intended to make it worse. Maybe he could make it finish drying sticking straight up...

Sometime after that the last record ended and no one bothered to put in a new one, most people were sitting on couches or in a circle on the floor where they were playing Bullshit with exploding cards. The disco ball had receded back up into the ceiling and the lights had dimmed to the flicker of candles. Charlie was leaning against a column, flirting with Anna and possibly trying to draw her under the nearby mistletoe. Jo was sharing a couch with Gordon, which made Dean slightly uncomfortable, while Demian and Barnes were unashamedly cuddling on the other side of the room. Granted, Dean was petting Cas' hair so he couldn't say they're position looked much better. Again, their words haunted him, and he imagined them eyeing him and Cas over here, suspecting them of more than friendship. In a way, they'd be right...

That time Cas said, " _And then I had you_ ," still nagged at Dean's mind on occasions such as this. Stupid, cheesy thought though it was. He sighed and smiled, resting his head back on the couch and giving up caring. Whatever he and Cas had, they had it and it was nice. Dean liked the way they were, honestly.

 _Even when you're staring at Cas' face trying not to kiss him?_ asked that annoying voice in his head. _Even when you think your insides are gonna split open cause it hurts so much to hold back?_

Pshh, he chided his own thoughts. Nonsense.

Maybe it happened very suddenly, or maybe he dozed off, but people were starting to leave when he next looked up. Jo made an attempt at cleaning up but Gordon pulled her away from the dirty cups, assuring her that the room always tidied itself. Charlie murmured not-so-quietly that it was actually house elves who did that, which got an intrigued look from Anna, who still hadn't gone under the mistletoe, much to Charlie's frustration. Sam had long since gone to bed, Dean noticed, good for him. Dean closed his eyes again momentarily, and when he opened them, everyone was gone.

Cas sat up with a start and gasped, "Where did everyone go?"

"To bed, I think," Dean chuckled, then gave Cas' shoulder a shove. "You probably should too, sleepyhead, since you've been conked out since I dunno when."

Cas rubbed his eyes and let out a breathy laugh. "That... stuff puts me straight to sleep." He gave a meaningful glace toward the empty bottles on the snack table.

"I noticed." Dean grinned and leaned back, putting his arm on the back of the sofa so Cas would rest his head on it when he leaned back too, sending a tingle through Dean's shoulder and to his ribcage where it fluttered around and made his lungs expand of their own accord.

Turning toward Dean's smile, Cas bit his lip and his face flushed a little pinker, their faces a mere two inches apart.

Usually this was when an awkward silence would start in which Dean stared at Cas' lips but reigned himself back from licking them and Cas stared in return with bright, blue, unassuming eyes while his ears grew redder by the second.

Not this time. Something felt natural and completely sensible to Dean in leaning forward and touching his lips to Castiel's.

Maybe time froze or maybe that was just both of them holding their breath, but either way Dean felt like his whole body was being suspended for the brief moment that the kiss lasted. It was nothing more than a press of lips, but the candlelight may have flared up a notch in brightness and Dean swore he couldn't control the hand that was gripping the front of Cas' robes so tightly.

Dean's eyes suddenly flew open but Cas' face was way too close to see what he thought of this, though he hadn't moved a muscle. Maybe that was a sign. Dean realized _what the fuck_ he was doing and pulled away immediately to see Cas' eyebrows drawn together and his lips red and now slightly parted, breathing quickly.

Dean's hand released control and so he untangled Cas from his arms, trying to catch his breath. "What are you doing?" the boy implored, sounding faint.

Dean didn't have an answer.  He didn't know what just happened, why he did it, or how his heart was hammering so loudly in his ears.  He opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say, so he ran.

In a state of shock, Cas did not pursue him.

~~~

Cas was still sitting there sixty seconds later, trembling slightly. He hadn't expected that to happen… ever. He thought he _might_ have been moving in to kiss Dean (not entirely certain what he thought he could achieve), but _Dean_ kissing _him_ was out of the question. It was an impossibility. Dean liked girls, not Cas.

The boy had a penchant for surprise, that was for sure. And then when he suddenly seemed so far away, Cas had ruined it by asking, "What are you doing?" when what he meant was, "Why are you stopping?" Of course, Dean ran and Cas was frozen in place, lips still tingling.

~~~

He  _must_  have completely misread Cas.  The boy had been stock-still, shocked when it happened. Not in a good way. This had been a huge fuck-up and it was all Dean's fault.

Dean really should have never listened to the part of his brain that made his stomach flip when Cas was around. Having the urge to kiss him and _actually_ kissing him were very different things, and it must've made him look like an jerk to assume that if Cas liked guys, he probably liked Dean. If that were true, Cas would have kissed back, right? That's how it works?

He threw himself into the nearest secret passage behind a tapestry and pressed his back against the cold stone of the wall, hoping to bring his heart rate down at least. It wasn't working all that well. God, not again, not over this.

After all, he'd finally somewhat admitted to himself that he _liked_ Cas, or at least that he wanted to kiss Cas, and hadn't really given thought to the idea that Cas might not want to kiss him back. Now that it seemed to be the case… God, he didn't know what to do. He and Cas were _best_ friends, so… what if he had just ruined… no, he couldn't think about that. It wasn't that bad, right? They were way too close to stop being friends over one, little kiss.

And it wasn't like Dean was in _love_ with the guy. It was just a crush. A crush he could get over. Hell, he'd had a tiny crush on Jo in his first year, like that ever stopped them from being best friends.

See, exactly. He and Cas would be _fine_ , because he'd _make_ it fine, and this wouldn't change anything. Even if he felt like his whole chest was collapsing in on itself right now, he'd remain friends with Cas even if it killed him.

Which… it just might.

~~~


	12. Chapter 12

Sam lay in bed awake, still running the night through his head. Jess' hair had practically sparkled in the lights of the party, but then he thought of Ruby and felt a twinge of guilt.

"Some night, huh?" said Tyson Brady from the next bed over, slipping his nightshirt over his head.

"Yeah, sure was," Sam replied honestly, his guilty pang growing.

"Why the glum face, then, man? You lovesick or something?"

The boy grinned mischievously and Sam smiled back weakly. "Uh... I guess."

"Ok, grumpy. Get some sleep. Sheesh."

"I'll try my best."

"G'night, lovebird."

"G'night, Brady."

Sam rolled over and burrowed under the covers, closing his eyes and hoping sleep would envelope him soon. Perhaps tonight the dream would be different. Perhaps he'd finally cross the train tracks, rather than circling around them. It seemed to take ages to finally drift off...

Darkness opened up and the gravel path formed before him. It barely made a sound as he was not so much walking as gliding low over it, the railroad coming up ahead. The ground was frozen quite solid beneath him and fog hovered everywhere, dampening what little light and sound there was, but the cold had no affect on him. With a thrill, he shot right past the double iron bars without even slowing or pausing, continuing straight into the field beyond.

The other side of the tracks was no different - just as cold and misty and dead. A small sliver of moon briefly poked through the fog but Sam did not need it to see anyhow. After a short distance, the gravel path ended, but he continued in a straight line across the dirt, frozen weeds, and brown grass, knowing his destination was dead ahead.

He sensed tall stones beginning to drift past him, then an eroded granite statue, and soon he was in the midst of a dense, ornate, and very old graveyard. Several hundred years old and abandoned, the headstones were intricately carved with vines, winged creatures, and magical symbols, most of which had thinned and rounded around the edges over the centuries of wind and snow.

Looming behind the shroud of mist, a shadowy building approached and formed into a mausoleum made of hard oak and solid iron. Its door was a welded masterpiece of pentacles and enchantments and the air sizzled with powerful magic all around it. Sam's nose and tongue tingled and he stared at it for a long, long time, as though waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, and he simply turned around and went back the way he came.

After the electric-like crackling of the mausoleum, the freezing air of the rest of the graveyard was dull and tasteless, not even the stench of death to add some contrast. Upon nearing the train tracks, however, something pierced through the fog. Something fresh, living, full of blood.

Some _one_ was inspecting the railroad, wand drawn. It was a man, heavily cloaked and gloved and hooded. Underneath all that wool was life and warmth which Sam suddenly remembered he craved, a wave of blood thirst overcoming him as the smell of the newcomer grew sharper.

The man looked up and the bearded, round face of Bobby Singer glanced warily toward the faint sound he'd heard, which had been Sam, slithering through the tall weeds. The taste of the man was making Sam less careful, but he remembered to stop at let the man believe it was just a slight, raspy breeze.

Bobby returned to examining the tracks, scanning over them with his wand and muttering soft incantations. Sam crept closer.

The professor made a dissatisfied huff and Sam took his chance, baring his fangs and striking out swiftly and accurately.

Bobby's reflexes were better than he expected, and he'd heard just enough to stand up in time so that Sam's fangs dug into his thigh rather than his neck. Still, the man cried out in pain and fell off-balance, his right leg no longer able to support him. Filled with excitement, Sam struck out against the other leg.

Whatever part of Sam that was not this fanged creature patrolling the graveyard started to wake and he tried to cry out and stop what was happening but he could not. He was helpless in a body he could not control, only act as witness. Bobby was losing a lot of blood, he was growing weak and unable to fight back... someone had to stop Sam from killing him...

He was being shaken by the shoulders and distant shouts were echoing through his head. Sam's consciousness was tugged away from the snake's body and his eyes flew open to find the lamp shining too-brightly and blinding him, his head pounding, skin cold and prickling.

Sam blinked and squinted, making out two figures standing at his bedside, one of whom had a hand resting on Sam's shoulder. Brady had stopped shaking him now, and his concerned face came into focus. Max was on his other side looking pale and frightened.

"Was--" Sam panted, "was I..."

"It was happening again, man." Brady shook his head. "Worse than ever, you were, like..."

He looked at Max for assistance, but the other boy only gulped and took a step back.

Brady continued, "It was like The Exorcist, you were all writhing around and screaming. No puke, though. You're hella clammy now, you know that?"

Sam held his blankets up to his chin, trying to stop the shivering. The boy was right, he was covered in cold sweat. Chill was seeping through him, as was overwhelming nausea - he bent over the side of the bed and retched.

Someone, probably Brady, make a "euyurgh" sound while someone else's pounding feet left the room. Sam felt like his head would explode with pain, but there was something important, something he needed to do, to remember...

Coughing, Sam suddenly sputtered, "Bobby!" He clambered out of bed on the side opposite the mess and ran for the door without shoes or a shirt, hair dripping onto his bare shoulders and giving him goose bumps. He didn't care, as long as he got to Bobby or the Headmaster or _someone_ who could confirm that Bobby was alright.

He was down the stairs, past Rowena's impassive, marble face and halfway across the common room when Brady shouted, "Sam, hold up! You look like crap, you shouldn't be running around--"

"I have to get to Bobby, I have to make sure he's still alive!" Sam shouted back, stumbling between blue, star-embroidered armchairs toward the door.

"Are you talking about Professor Singer? How can he be hurt if he's here at Hogwarts--"

Sam had his hand on the brass knob but now he stopped and pivoted. "HE LEFT, GODDAMNIT, HE'S _THERE_ AND IF YOU STOP ME I SWEAR TO GOD--"

"SAM!" Jess had come running in from the girls' dormitory, her hair tangled in clumps.

"Jess... not now!" he panted.

She looked Sam up and down, concern growing as she saw the state he was in. "What happened, I thought--I thought you said they were getting better but this doesn't look--"

"Jess, believe me when I say that now is not the time. Bobb--Professor Singer's in trouble and I'm probably the only one that knows, and I have to get to Shurley because he's the only one who can help."

They held eye contact for a long moment, Jess biting her lip and Sam still breathing heavily. He could feel his fast pulse throbbing painfully in his head. Finally, she sighed, "Alright, but I'm coming with you."

"Fine." Sam had no desire to argue, for all he knew he had precious seconds to save Bobby's life.

"I guess I'll just tag along and make sure you idiots don't get caught after hours," Brady remarked, crossing his arms.

Sam would've given him a dirty look, but he didn't have time. He simply turned and threw open the door, dashing down the spiral staircase and out Ravenclaw tower, not stopping until he realized he didn't know where the Headmaster's office _was_. Hesitating, friends panting to catch up behind him, he turned a corner and slammed right into Frank Devereaux, the sour caretaker who most _definitely_ didn't like students in the halls late at night.

Frank spun around and brandished his lantern in Sam's face, shouting, "Who goes there?!"

Sam, Jess, and Brady all gulped.

"Well, well," the scowl turned into a grin, "Spider caught some flies. Do any o' you little bastards know what time it is?"

Brady glanced at Sam. "Um..."

Sam figured there was nothing for it, and took a deep breath. "I need to see the headmaster straight away, it's urgent!"

"That's what they all say," the caretaker growled. "How's about you come with dear old Frank--"

"NO! PROFESSOR SINGER COULD BE IN DANGER AND THE LONGER THIS TAKES THE LESS LIKELY ANYONE WILL FIND HIM IN TIME. HE'S GOING TO DIE IF I DON'T DO SOMETHING!"

Even the tenacious old man had to take a step back, shirking away from the crazed look in Sam's eyes.

"Robert Singer?"

"Yes!"

Frank cleared his throat and lowered his lantern so that it wasn't nearly singeing Sam's eyebrows. "You wanna see the Headmaster? Hell, I can take you to the Headmaster. Don't say I didn't warn you this could get you all _expelled_."

He turned on his heel and headed down the corridor, while the three kids exchanged fearful glances then followed after him.

Following Frank Devereaux through the castle was like chasing a rabbit through its own underground lair, weaving through hidden shortcuts and unfamiliar corridors. But, within a minute they were standing in front of a gargoyle statue at a dead end, presumably at the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Sure enough, Frank grumbled, "Foghat" and the gargoyle stepped aside, opening up a staircase that led them to double oak doors on which the man pounded his fist.

"I hope we're not waking him," Jess whispered to Sam.

"Oh, he's awake alright," answered Frank.

The doors opened up and the three students carefully followed the caretaker inside the dimly lit room. Shurley was sitting on the front of his desk, tapping his fingers on the edge of the wood and nibbling the end of a quill. His hair and dark green robes were unkempt and his eyes were sunken, the skin underneath them heavily shadowed from lack of sleep. He and Sam could have a competition for worst appearance.

"Thank you, Frank, I'll take it from here," he said, standing up and setting the quill down. It was as though he'd been expecting them.

The old man's jaw twitched, but he turned and gave the students one last scathing look before exiting the way he came.

Sam stepped forward, his head still pounding painfully. "Headmaster, I have to tell you..."

Shurley picked up a whirling, circular, brass object of some kind and turned it over in his hands.

"Are you listening?" Sam demanded, then was embarrassed by how rudely it came out.

"What's up, Sam?" Shurley asked, setting down the object and scratching his scruffy chin.

Sam gulped. "Well, I..." Having already made a fool of himself, he was suddenly self-conscious of how dumb it would sound to tell Shurley about his nightmares, if that's all they were...

Jess gave him a sideways glance and started for him, "He's been having this dream—"

"It's not really a dream," Sam corrected quickly. "I mean, I was asleep but I know what I saw... it was real..." He thought again of the blood soaking the ground, the great fangs Sam had used to attack Bobby over and over. He took a shaky breath. "Bobby – Professor Singer – he's been attacked by a giant snake."

It sounded as stupid as Sam feared it would, and Jess' tiny gasp didn't help. He felt her eyes and Brady's boring into his back, making Sam feel strange and distant. He thought, perhaps his friends had finally realized they were looking at someone they didn't know at all, someone they ought to fear.

Shurley stared at the floor for too long, and Sam grew impatient.

"Well?! Are you going to DO anything about it? He's DYING for—"

"How did you see him?"

"I don't know, I keep going to this place every night and this is the first time anyone else was there—"

"No, I mean, _how_ did you see it? Were you watching from above or the side, or...?"

Did he _know?_ "I... I-I was the snake. Or I was... inside it somehow. It was like... like it was patrolling this old graveyard when Bobby showed up..."

Shurley nodded and scratched his chin, turning away again. He walked over to a portrait on the wall, its subject – an old woman so freckled she appeared tanned and blotchy – pretending to be asleep. "You've been listening, right, Margaret?"

She opened her eyes and nodded. "Of course."

"Alert the Order, make sure he's found in time."

Margaret nodded, then she stepped out of her frame and rather than appearing in the one next to it, disappeared altogether.

Shurley next called out, "Frank, you're still there?"

The door opened in answer and the caretaker took a step into the office, looking expectantly at Chuck.

"We'll need a lookout. A distraction, if necessary."

"My pleasure." He shut the door once more and his footsteps faded down the staircase.

Was that it? Shurley seemed unsurprised that Sam was having visions through the eyes of a giant snake. Didn't he care what was happening to Sam? And what was in that graveyard, anyway? Did Shurley send Bobby there to find out? Sam's head was so full of questions he wanted to scream, but didn't know where to start.

"Do you think Professor Singer could really be hurt?" Brady asked. "Shouldn't he be here, in the school somewhere?"

"Professor Singer left earlier this evening," Shurley replied matter-of-factly.

Ignoring Jess and Brady's gaping expressions and Sam's hardened one, the headmaster picked up another object from his desk, this one looking something like a large, brass magic 8-ball. He swirled it once and peered into the window, colored liquid forming shapes inside that Sam could not discern from a distance.

"Ah," said Shurley, apparently understanding what it meant. "And bound together, somehow?" The floating forms shifted again, turning red. He nodded, bit his lip, then set the instrument back down.

Sam was now confused as well as frustrated. What was Shurley doing? If he knew so much, why hide it? Why did everyone seem to think everything was too dangerous for Sam?

Suddenly, Shurley tapped his fingers to his forehead. "I'm sorry guys, have a seat." With a wave of his wand, he conjured three plain, possibly-stained, but comfortable armchairs. Sam, Jess, and Brady each took one, though Sam didn't stop glowering at Shurley as he did so.

The man resolutely ignored him, beginning to pace back and forth across his study. This did nothing to help the time go by faster, and the next several minutes seemed to take days, meanwhile Sam couldn't help but think of Bobby, bleeding out and lost in the middle of nowhere forever. If someone didn't find him soon...

Just then, the woman in the portrait returned, panting. "Chuck!"

"Yes, did they find him?" Shurley asked at once. Sam and Jess both jumped to their feet, then Brady followed suit.

Margaret nodded, catching her breath. "Travis is taking him to St. Mungo's now, he looked in a bad way..."

Sam felt his heartbeat spike. He'd been right, what he'd seen was real. This was not entirely reassuring.

Jess put her hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it while Brady shifted his feet and Shurley clasped his hands. "Good. I mean, phew, they found him. He—he'll be alright." After a moment's thought, Shurley cast a patronus and relayed to the silvery rabbit that appeared, "Missouri, sorry to wake you but... something's happened. Can you bring Castiel Singer to my office? It has to do with Bobby."

It jumped into the air and hopped away, through the wall toward the opposite side of the castle.

He cast a second patronus and gave it the same message but for Ellen, asking her to bring Dean. Sam gulped, imagining Dean's reaction to all this, the snake-vision, Sam's mysterious dreams which, of course, he'd been keeping secret from Dean to avoid this very reaction he so feared...

Shurley's pacing resumed and he picked up his quill, gnawing the chewed-up end some more. Sam had never seem him look so nervous, not even while attempting public speaking, but this was a different kind of anxiety. It rubbed off on Jess, who started to tap her fingers on her leg in agitation.

Margaret cleared her throat. "Now, Shurley, don't you think these other two children ought to go back to bed?"

"Y-yes. Miss Moore and Mr. Brady, Missouri can escort you back to your common room when she arrives."

Jess and Tyson gave small nods. Jess' gaze lingered on Sam, who felt strangely prickly toward her. She and everyone else treated Sam too delicately, and the Bambi-eyes she was giving him made Sam want to put out bristles – maybe if he shouted at everyone they'd stop liking him enough to care so much.

A moment later, the door was flung open and the divination professor strode in, Castiel trotting at her heels. Missouri Moseley was fully dressed in her primrose-yellow, gold-embroidered robes, hair tightly pushed back under a black headscarf. Cas was in button-up blue pajamas and his hair a complete mess. He was winded, but Missouri was calm and said in a chiding voice, "Mister Shurley, you haven't been following a single one of my instructions. You look awful."

"I-I know, I know. Listen--"

"Bobby Singer is gravely hurt, yes." Cas went strikingly pale and started fidgeting with his buttons. Missouri went on, "The thing I don't understand is _why_ did he leave the castle _tonight_? Signs were pretty darn clear, nothin' waitin' out there but danger!"

"It's... complicated," Shurley sighed. "But I, uh, see you were prepared, as usual."

Missouri raised an eyebrow at him. "Somethin' is a-stirrin', Charles, I keep tellin' you."

"So you do."

Ellen and Dean appeared in the still-open door, both as pajama-clad and disheveled as Cas, at whom Dean glanced apprehensively. "Chuck, what happened?" Ellen demanded.

"It's, um—oh yes, Missouri, could you—"

"I certainly will," she answered without waiting for him to finish. "Ms. Moore, Mr. Brady, back to bed now." She shepherded them out the door but Jess shuffled her feet, still gazing worriedly at Sam. "I know, sweetheart, but he's in good hands..." Professor Moseley reassured.

When the door shut behind them, Chuck explained, "Bobby's being taken to St. Mungo's, he's badly injured. You three—" he gestured to Sam, Dean, Cas "—will take a portkey to the Harvelle's Roadhouse if that's alright with you, Ellen."

She nodded. "We should give Ash a head's up though and make sure the coast is clear."

Chuck nodded and walked behind his desk, pulling a rusty percolator from the bottom drawer. He tapped it with his wand and it momentarily glowed blue. Meanwhile, Dean cried out, "What happened? Where's Bobby!?"

"You'll all be filled in at the Roadhouse, right now there's no time--" Suddenly, Chuck looked up as a cat - Frank's mean and mangy gray tabby - snuck in the door that Sam was sure had been closed.

"That's our cue," Chuck announced, "He must know you're up. We _have_ to make sure the Bureau doesn't find out about this - Ellen, while there's time--"

She nodded and grabbed the percolator without question, causing it to glow again briefly, then she and the coffeepot blinked out of existence.

They waited in silence, counting the seconds till her return, starting to hear Zach shouting and stomping down the corridor below. Finally, one long moment later, Ellen reappeared and said, "All clear!"

Chuck tapped the portkey once again, renewing the spell, and ordered, "Everyone grab on!"

Sam didn't want to be here when Zach showed up, and clearly neither did Dean or Cas, who grabbed on just as quickly.

"Hold on tight!" Ellen said, "Three, two--"

The footsteps came closer, Zach's voice echoed in the stairwell...

"One!"

~~~


End file.
